


Purified By Innocence

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Angst, Angst and Humor, Bodice-Ripper, Bottom Sam, Crack, First Time, Fluff, Historical Romance, Humor, Innocent Sam, Knight Dean, M/M, Sexy Times, Top Dean, Warrior Dean, Wincest - Freeform, an attempted rape scene, sam and dean are not brothers, trouser ripper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:50:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 114,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5414075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lord Dean Winchester belongs to the secret arm of the Knights Templer, fighting supernatural horrors and demons that plague the land. Knights like Dean must be paired with an innocent who can neutralize the dark taint that builds up inside them due to their close contact with evil. Dean has selected the boy, Sam, as his innocent, and goes to claim him from the monks who have groomed and sheltered him for that purpose. Trouser-ripper.<br/>Author's Note: We have not tried to make the language sound overly medieval. Think of the Herculese t.v. show, you have the ancient Greece setting but more modern lingo is used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
>  Many thanks to Naisica who not only allowed us to use her lovely manip but added text for us. If you haven't seen her art... run, don't walk, to her LJ.
> 
> co-written with Fetish

It was an hour before the bells would ring to announce it was time for prayers at dawn. The stone monastery was cold and dark, although servants had started to re-light the fires in fire places, dying torches were being replaced, and oil lamps being lit. Brother John walked down the long hallway, tightening the rope around his waist and brown robes. Although he'd known the boy Samuel would be collected soon after he turned eighteen, even he was surprised that the messenger had arrived on the very day of the youth's birth. Lord Winchester must be anxious indeed.

Passing the numerous chamber doors, he stopped and opened Sam's. Raising his torch, he inserted it into the metal brace on the wall, crossed the small room in two steps and got down on his knees. Samuel was so tall, he had to double himself in order not to fall off the thin pallet on the ground. John noticed that the boy's rosary was clenched between his hands... no doubt this one was praying for more time. Many of the _innocents_ were hesitant to leave the lives they'd known here for new ones outside the walls and at the mercy of a person they'd never met.

He grasped the boy's shoulder and shook him. "Wake up Samuel. Come on boy, wake up."

Having been up later than usual the night before, worrying about the day his knight would come to claim him, Sam had difficulty waking now. He'd witnessed knights come to claim others like himself, innocents who'd been raised to help rid these special knights of the evils that plagued them, though Sam was unsure just _how_ the innocents were supposed to accomplish that task. All of his inquiries were answered with a short, "Your knight will show you the way," and nothing more.

Some of the knightsthat came to collect his friends were horrible men, large and ugly, with bad breath and rotten teeth, that smelled like horse dung and groped his friends as though they were cattle. It was a disgusting display to witness and Sam had always tried to _not_ be around for such events, even though it was supposed to be a grand affair, your knight coming to get you, to make you his. What ever that meant.

Samuel could only imagine what this Dean Winchester would be like. Probably he'd be as big around as he was tall, with a balding head and boils he would force him to tend. Sam would always shudder at the thought of this 'Dean' coming to fetch him. Now that the day of his eighteenth birthday was upon him, he knew his days were numbered and Lord Winchester would be allowed to take what what was his. Sam had stayed up praying half the night away that Lord Winchester would not remember him, would tarry and not show up for years to come. Perhaps he'd be delayed by a crusade against evil that would take him years.

At the insistent shaking, Sam's lashes fluttered open and he looked up into Brother John's face and that small light of hope was snuffed quickly out. A coldness blossomed in Sam's belly, butterflies danced in his chest as he swallowed hard, not even fully awake, the fear claiming him. "H - he's here, isn't he?" Sam asked, voice rough and soft with sleep.

"Aye, he'll be here at the half hour mark. You are to pack your belongings and go to the chapel." He squeezed the boy's shoulder once again. "If I do not see you again, Samuel, God go with you in your travels."

Sam's eyes widened, his mouth worked like a fish though no sound came out. He felt like he could cry, like he wanted to run away and hide from this knight who was, it seemed, so anxious to have him. Forcing himself to act as he should, as he was taught to for all these years, Sam gave Brother John a small stiff nod, and rose from his pallet, watching as Brother John left his room.

Looking around his room, it wasn't as though he had much to pack. A few items of clothing, his rosary beads and bible, nothing else belonged to him. Quickly stuffing them into a sack, Sam dressed for the day and headed to chapel for his morning prayers. Reaching the tall stone structure, Sam slipped in as quietly as the tall wooden doors would allow, going to his place before the alter to kneel.

 

Glancing over at his friend, Sam whispered, his head bowed as if in prayer, "I leave today."

Christiana slipped her hand down from where they had been folded in prayer and reached over, her fingertips dancing across his side, before she pulled it away, folding them once more before her.

Sam sighed, eyes closed. In the chapel, under watchful eyes, this was the only way they could ever tell one another of their fears and wish one another well... a simple tiny touch that was so forbidden it could have gotten her in more trouble than it was worth. 

Sam started his morning prayers, adding one to them for Lord Winchester to be kind and gentle, for him to be, well, one was not suppose to be shallow, but, if he was not an ogre, Sam would be relieved.

* * *

[8 years ago]

Dean Winchester had reached his majority six months ago. Since then, in between quests to vanquish demons and dragons that scarred the land, made the people's blood run, and burned villages, he had been on his own personal search. The dark taint that built up and choked those like himself, those who hunted and eradicated the dark creatures that roamed the world, had started to make itself known to him. He could feel it inside him, knew it by the way his temper rose too quickly, and by the way he had to sometimes fight the urge to kill. It wasn't so strong yet, but it would get strong over the years until he would have need to collect and use his innocent to temper the darkness within himself.

He had been to numerous orphanages, the homes of people who would give up their children, and he'd picked over battlefields where children cried over their dead fathers' bodies. Thus far, he hadn't found the _right_ one.

Dean and six of his handpicked men arrived at the modest cottage and dismounted. The townspeople who'd heard the thundering of the horses stood outside, watching them, but no one came out of the cottage.

"Stay out here. Make sure the tavern is ready to serve us," Dean snapped at his second in command and friend. "I want no delays."

Charles nodded. "Perhaps you will find the right one here."

His jaw clenched, Dean said nothing but walked to the door and gave a heavy knock.

A few moments later, he was inside, dwarfing the old woman who had taken in four orphaned children. "I don't want them to see me," he said, following her to the doorway of another room. Through a crack in the door, he spotted the children. His gaze slipped over each one. Two girls, two boys. Somehow he kept going back to the thin boy with a mop of brown hair covering his eyes. "How old are they?" he asked. The younger they were, the longer he'd have to wait until they reached their majority.

The woman pointed. "Mary is fourteen, Michael is eight, Rose is twelve and Samuel is ten."

"Samuel." Dean's hand went to the hilt of his sword, his hand clenching around it. "I wish to see his eyes."

Nodding, she walked inside and pulled the child close to her then brushed his hair back off his eyes.

A boy. He'd never thought a boy. Turning on his heels, Dean walked out of the cottage. "Take the boy, Samuel, to the monastery. He is mine." Without another word, he walked to the tavern down the street. This time it was to celebrate and not to drown out sorrow at another failure.

* * *

[7 years ago]

Sam walked along side Brother Robert as he tended to the animals. It was the chore job assigned to Sam now that he lived here at the monastery with the monks and no longer at the orphanage with Mistress Sophia. He knew he had been _chosen_ by one of the mysterious knights that were suppose to slay dragons and fight evil things, but he wasn't exactly sure just what that meant. _Chosen._

Did this Knight want a child? Was his woman barren and were they going to adopt him? Sam didn't think that was quite it because if it were, then why had they not just taken him home? Why send him _here_ to live with the monks and other children? All this and more continued to swirl in Sam's head as he helped the monk feed the animals. Whenever he asked the questions, he was always told that _God_ would tell him when the time was right. That hadn't made any sense to Sam either, he had never heard God talk to... well, _anybody_! Frowning at the thoughts in his head, Sam wasn't watching where he was stepping and his foot slid off the narrow plank between the animal stalls, sending him falling, crashing over the side and into the nearby pig stall.

He'd managed to land on his knees and not his back, but it still didn't make the fall any less jarring and he washurt, his knees burning like liquid fire had been poured onto them.  
Sitting back on his butt, Sam examined his knees through his tears to find them bloody and scraped open, small patches of jagged skin hanging off. Wrapping his arms around his legs as he drew them up, knees bent, feet flat against the dirty ground, Sam cried, wishing that Mistress Sophia was there to hug him, tend his wounds and make him feel better like she always had. The little old woman had only been an over-seer of orphans, but she had been kind and loving to Sam while he had been in her care.

"Samuel!" Brother Robert crossed the short distance between them, grasped the boy's white robe at the shoulder and pulled him up. "Come, let us take care of that," he said not unkindly, but very aware that the boys master was visiting, watching from within the monastery. He started to walk the boy toward the building since he was not so hurt that he could not walk.

Sam wiped as his eyes with the back of his hands as he was pulled to his feet, sniffling, he walked with the monk toward the building, worrying his bottom lip, head hanging. "I didn't mean to fall," he mumbled out, unsure if he was in trouble or not. Mistress Sophia always tended to his wounds wherever he fell. She had told him many times that his legs were too long for him and he was as graceful as a bull at market. She'd smiled at him and told him that one day he'd grow into his legs and not fall so often, but sometimes Sam wondered if that would ever happen.

Glancing over at Brother Robert as they walked Sam grew more nervous, but fought to remain quiet.

They walked through an archway and reached the courtyard. Robert pointed at a bench. "Sit there." Already, another monk was at his side with supplies. Kneeling, Robert washed the wounds, then poured some wine over them.

Sam bit into his bottom lip as the wine was poured over his open wounds, his eyes squeezed tightly closed, hands clenched into tight fists. Slowly he opened his eyes, blinking as he looked down at his knees, fresh tears shining in his eyes. "Burns," he whined.

"It will pass. Be brave." Putting a poultice over it, Rober wrapped some strips of cloth around the boy's knees. Taking a spare strip of cloth, he dried Sam's tears. "Why don't you go to the kitchens and tell them you are there for a biscuit and tea. It will make you feel better."

Sam smiled at the monk and nodded, sniffling as he wiped again at his eyes. Starting to slide forward off the bench, Sam opened his arms, holding them out to hug the monk who had been so kind to him in tending his wounds, just as he always had to Mistress Sophia at the orphanage.

Robert rose suddenly, putting his hand out to prevent the child from leaping into his arms. "Remember Samuel, no unnecessary touching. Go get your tea." Patting him very lightly on the head, he stepped away.

*

Dean wanted to push the old monk away. He wanted to be there for his innocent. To take him into his own arms to comfort him. This from a man who did not even like children. He took a step toward the door leading to the courtyard.

"My Lord?"

Dean closed his eyes. "I know. But I do not like to see him like that." He would no longer want to see a steed of his in pain, than his innocent. 

"Aye. He will be fine. If my memory serves, you suffered far greater injuries than that in your youth and your father never..."

Giving a curt nod, Dean went to the window one last time until Sam disappeared from view. It was true, he'd had a hard father who'd trained him to hunt the things in the dark and not to cry or show his feelings, but he'd had his mother's comfort. This boy had no one, not until he turned 18. 

Another man ran into the room. "There are reports of demons at Greenwich."

All else forgotten, Dean walked out of the room, his men following him outside the monastery and mounting. They had a long ride ahead of them.

* * *

[ 4 years ago]

Sam stood in the middle of the vineyard beside Christiana as she finished filling the basket on the ground before them with grapes for him to carry back to the monastery.

"You can fill it more than that," Sam told her, frowning at the half full basket.

Christiana glanced up at him, her soft pink lips curving into a smile, "I wouldn't want you to break anything."

Sam scoffed, "I'm stronger than that, did you not see me plowing yesterday?"

Christina giggled, "Yes and you looked ready to swoon when you had completed the task!"

Sam's eyes widened, "I did not!"

Christiana, laid a hand on Sam's shoulder as she laughed only to have Brother Andrew rush over to them and tug her hand away from Sam.

"Alright, that is _enough_ from the both of you! Samuel, back to work! Christiana, you come with me!" Andrew told her, gripping the sleeve of her robe, pulling her away toward the prayer rooms where they were sent to be punished by being forced into confession and prayer for the entire day, all day and all eve spent on their knees praying, no food or water as they begged forgiveness for the sin of touching.

Sam frowned at the monk, "She did nothing wrong!"

"Samuel! Do you wish to be sent to a prayer room too!?" Andrew spat.

Sam hung his head, shaking it slowly, "No, Brother Andrew." he answered softly.

"Back to work, all of you!" Andrew ordered firmly, as the other chosen ones had stopped to listen to what was going on.

* * *

[1 Year Ago]

 

"I don't care. I want to see him, now," Dean ground out, peeling his doublets off and staring down the ancient monk. "I am... on edge, I need to see, I won't explain it again."

The monk bowed, and lead the way out of the library and through labrynth-like hallways. He pushed a door open into an empty room. "He will be there soon." Bowing, he left the warrior alone.

Dean walked to the wall. It had some decorative designs, and some of the carvings went all the way through the solid stone wall. Hands flat on the cool surface, he looked through a narrow gap, seeing _his innocent_ get ushered inside to the circular room that had a pool in the center filled with warm water. At first, all he could see was the lad's back as he was informed he was to take a bath. _Turn around._

Sam stood in the center of the room, watching as the monk left, pulling the heavy door closed behind him. Tearing his gaze away from the door, Sam looked over at the pool that had been filled for him.

Wasn't this suppose to be for the chosen when their knights came for them?

Sam usually washed in his room in the small tub that they had given him, one that he barely fit in anymore, this pool, was... well, it was huge compared to what he was use to. Sam licked his lips nervously as he moved forward to peer into the water from the edge of the pool. Looking around as he worried his bottom lip, figuring he had best do as he was told, even though he felt very uncomfortable doing so here. 

He removed his modest shoes, before pulling back up to his full height and untying the rope belt around his waist, so much like the monks wore except his robes, like that of all of the chosen, was all white. Pulling the robe up and over his head, Sam sighed, wrapping his arms around his bare chest as he looked around , his bottom lip caught between straight white teeth.

Dean's gaze was trained on the slender boy, his breath hitching as his clothing came off to reveal a muscular form worthy of any warrior. His face was like that of angels in tapestries, and his teeth were remarkably straight. As his eyes slid lower again, lingering on the boy's well defined chest, and the line dividing his chest funneled went lower, Dean's stomach clenched. Then the boy turned his back to him as he looked at the water.

Three times, the innocent's hand went to the drawstring of the white brais that still covered him from his waist to his mid thighs, but he hesitated. Each time, Dean caught his breath, anxious to see what was under, but he was denied. "Sonova..." he cursed, wishing he could snap out an order, but knowing it would be best if he kept his tongue in his head. _Do it._

As the boy finally started to pull at the strings, Dean's hand curled against the stone, his breaths growing deeper. He licked his lips as the white material was slowly pushed down and he could slide his gaze down form the line of Sam's back to his firm, milky white, ass. When he bent to pick something up, Dean banged his forehead against the rough stone, hardly feeling any pain as he concentrated on the way the boy's leg parted and the shadow he could just make out between his legs. _For Gods sakes, turn._

Frowning down at the yellow ribbon that lay on the cold stone floor, Sam picked it up as if it were the most fragile thing on the planet, holding it carefully between thumb and index finger as he looked at it. There was one girl among them who had always worn a yellow ribbon holding her flaming red hair back, "Stephanie," he mumbled softly, sadly, remembering the arse of a knight who had come to claim her just a few days ago. Sam remembered the way the knight had touched her in front of every one and the way she had looked as he had kissed her, so ill, as though she were going to vomit up her mid day meal.

Jaw clenched, Sam rose to his full height and turned, walking over to a small table sitting next to the wall and carefully placing her ribbon down upon the rough wooden surface. "May he die swiftly for you, Steph." Sam mumbled softly, before turning and walking back toward the pool, slowly climbing in.

_Holy..._ When Samuel approached, Dean had a full frontal view of his innocent and he was not disappointed. Barely processing the innocent's wish for the death of another, he felt his body stir... make demands. These last years had been difficult. He'd met and bested many evil things, and it weighed down on him. Now, the sight of the one who could make his internal demons go away, put him at ease, drove him to near madness. He had to fight the urge to claim Sam now, before his majority. One touch of those lips to his, and he knew... knew beyond a doubt that he would be saved.

As Sam walked down the steps, one at a time, Dean's cock surged, straining against his breeches until it was painful. A sound welled up in the back of his throat. Licking his lips, he moved his hand over his cock, squeezing himself, trying to find an outlet for this terrible need building low in his belly.

Sam couldn't believe the size of this pool, it was nearly large enough to swim in, and the water was nicely warm instead of tepid as the water in his room's tub normally was by the time water from the kitchen could be carried there. Smiling as he sank down into the water, Sam wasn't quite sure what he had done to deserve this, but he was going to enjoy it while it was his. He laid back in the water, letting his head dip down, wetting his hair. The pool was so deep with water that he nearly floated on the surface. Hr was enjoying himself so, as he splashed and moved around, not even thinking about the soap that was sitting on the side of the pool, simply enjoying the water instead of bathing.

Watching as Sam arched his back in the water floated upwards, a groan broke from Dean. Thoughts of joining him in the water, straddling that tight, lithe body, fucking against him as he joined their mouths in a heated kiss, tortured him. Losing all sense of shame, he undid his breeches and pushed his hand under, closing his fist around his painfully hard cock and immediately stroking. _Lift up again... again_ he practically chanted, eyes burning with need. _Please... just once more._

Sam laid back in the water with a sigh, closing his eyes, a smile lighting his features, making his dimples show. If the monks wanted him to bathe here again, he would have no problem with it. A chuckle worked out of him before he arched backward, nearly doing a handstand on the pools bottom before coming back up in another area of the pool, shaking water from his hair as he lifted his hands to his face, pushing his long wet bangs back.

The soap laying unused to the side finally caught Sam's eye and he figured he had better at least wash up a little before they came to get him. Walking through the water that covered him to his middle, Sam reached up and grabbed the cake of soap.

He started washing his arms, then his chest and neck, before he accidentally dropped it. Hands running across soapy skin, Sam rolled his eyes at himself and leaned over to retrieve the soap, effectively making him disappear under the water. Raising back up, soap in hand, Sam walked to the waters edge and deposited the soap, before placing his hands, palms flat on the side of the pool and lifting himself up out of the water to sit on the side, muscles in his arms bulging from the effort.

Sitting on the pool side, Sam washed his feet and legs before he slid off back into the water once more, soap once again forgotten as he arched back and floated on the waters now soapy surface, a content smile pulling at his lips, his eyes closed.

Dean was stroking himself hard, breaths labored and echoing around the small room as his need became more intense and he started to thrust into his hand. He wanted that mouth around him. Those hands, with those long elegant fingers... soapy, sliding over him. He wanted to be deep inside his innocent, fucking him hard, letting him know who his lord and master was, making him need as much as the youth made him need, making him cry out his name. "Angh... fuck... Sam..." he rasped, biting his lip as his balls drew up. "Yes... yes...."

The sight of Sam standing and soaping between his legs did it. Dean banged his forehead against the wall and groaned out loud, spunk coating his hand as he came in a gush of heat, imagining pumping his cock into Sam's tight ass. Oh God... there was relief... some relief... but he knew he would be rock hard every time he thought about Sam bathing, that one year would not pass soon enough. Fuck...

* * *

[Present]

As Brother John made sure Sam was prepared to go, he asked over and over what it was he was suppose to always remember.

Sam sighed and rolled his eyes, a groan escaping. "I know, Brother John, I know. I have to give Lord Winchester whatever he wants, I am to obey him as I would God, I know," Sam sighed as he made a face, "though I doubt God is fat and smelly OR that he has warts and puss filled boils AND I doubt very much that God would paw at me with his big fat sweaty hands or gag me with his horrid breath and rotten teeth!" Sam spat, his jaw clenched, held in a stubborn angle as he frowned darkly, nearly pouting. 

Standing in the larger room outside the small ready room, Dean's back got stiffer and stiffer as he heard his innocent speak about him like that. What had given him the idea that he was any of those things? A glance at his companions showed they were amused, though they made no comment. 

A low chuckle escaped Dean, he nodded.

Looking at the darkly clad hunter warrior, Charles shook his head. Lord Winchester was none of those things. Samuel would be pleased, unless he angered Dean. Then it might not go well.

Turning to the older of his companions, Peter, who was also twice his girth, Dean nodded at him. "Go in and get him. Let him think you are me."

This time Charles chuckled. 

Giving a long suffering look, Peter walked into the antechamber and looked Samuel over from head to foot. "He will do. Come with me, Samuel," he said, smiling widely and showing the gaps in his teeth.

Sam looked up as the knight walked into the room, his heart seemed to stop in his chest as he saw him, his blood running cold. Sam stood with his mouth hanging open, eyes wide, before he forced himself to snap his mouth closed and lower his eyes. It was just as he feared, fat, old, missing teeth, and soon, he would be touching him, something Sam didn't even want to think about, and definitely _did not_ want to learn about from this man who now apparently was his lord and master.

Swallowing hard, Sam looked over at Brother John, pleading silently with his eyes for him not to allow this to happen, a small whimper sounding in Sam's throat before he hung his headr.

"Come." This time Peter reached out and grasped Sam's forearm. 

Sam's head snapped up to look at the knight as he grabbed his arm, a soft gasp escaping him, eyes wide, before he forced himself to relax, to accept his fate.

"I am taking you home." Nodding at the bewildered monk, he pulled Sam out of the room, where they were flanked by the other two men.

At the first sight of his innocent, Dean felt a thrill go through his entire body, clear to his toes. Ordinarily, he would have taken Sam from Peter by now, but he quietly walked along, stealing only side long glances at the one he had come to claim.

Sam walked obediently with the warriors, leaving behind everything he knew to start a life with a man, a warrior, a knight that he did not know and that he did not want to know. Squaring his shoulders as he walked past the other chosen, Sam tried to not show them that he was afraid, he didn't want them to worry when it was their time. As they passed by the last of the three he had been closest to, Christiana, Sam acknowledged her with a flutter of his eyelashes, before he obediently looked away as he had been taught.

This might be a new life that he was being led to, but Sam now understood those who had said that it felt like they were being led to their deaths. He never liked to wish harm on others, not for his own sake especially, but some part of Sam hoped that mayhap his master would ride out one night and never return.

Dean did not miss the exchange of looks, but was secure in the thought that Sam had been kept innocent. They walked to the large doors, which were drawn open, and then they were outside. Their horses were lined up, and behind them, another seven knights. Everyone's eyes were on Samuel. 

"You, take Sam on your steed," Peter said, moving to mount his own horse, as did Charles. 

Hiding both a smile and his excitement, Dean motioned to his horse. "Do you need me to lift you up?" he asked, voice low, but full of authority.

Sam glanced over at his master when the knight before him spoke and quickly Sam shook his head. "No - no, sir," Sam told him, as he waited for the knight to mount, then moved forward to climb up on the animal's back in front of him. Jaw set, Sam moved to do as he was suppose to, though his gaze quickly ran over the knight he was to sit in front of.

Why couldn't _this one_ be his master? He had a handsome face and his body looked strong, solid, not over weight and likely covered in warts. This knight had brilliant green eyes that Sam had to tear his gaze away from as he settled in front of him. Sam was careful not to touch him in any way for fear his master would become angered with him. He didn't even want to think what his punishment from such a creature would be. The very idea of it had Sam swallowing hard and scooting farther forward away from the knight behind him.

Dean waited for Sam to get settled, then closed one arm tightly around him, drawing him up against his body. Glancing at the company of men, he nodded and dug his knees into the horse's sides. They headed out, his steed front and center, with Charles and Peter flanking them, and the rest riding hard behind them. It was cold, the sun was only now rising and fog lingered on the road making it difficult to see ahead. Alert and on the look out for brigands, Dean suddenly felt his innocent start to squirm.

"Stop it you fool, you might fall," he snapped, holding him tighter and controlling the steed with one hand.

Sam looked over his shoulder at the knight and shook his head as he raised a hand and tried to pry the man's hand away from him. "Please," Sam begged him, "if my master sees you holding me, I - I'm not suppose to be touched, you can't..." Sam bit his lip and wiggled more, "Please let me go..."

Smirking, Dean held him just a little tighter. "You are also not supposed to fall and break your neck. Stop this." Pleased with Sam's intent to obey the wishes of his lord and master, it took a few moments before Dean realized Sam's backside was rubbing against his cock and making him hot with arousal. He struggled to exert control over his body. "I said _enough_." This time his tone brooked no rebellion.

Sam stilled immediately, his heart thundering in his chest. He was shaking with fear that he was going to get into trouble, he had heard stories, horror stories of the things that these knights did, the things they faced, and the way the were looked upon. Why would they treat him, a nobody, any better? Sam clenched his hands into fists and squeezed his eyes closed, head hanging as he worried his bottom lip. There was nothing more he could do, he had tried to make this warrior see that this was forbidden, that he was not to be touched. If his master were going to punish him, Sam would just have to take it.

His innocent might be obedient, but it was too late for Dean to have a comfortable ride. He was already too aware of the man sitting in front of him on the horse, his back pressing against Dean's chest, his ass teasing his cock each time he rocked due to the motions of the horse. Leaning in, chin practically on Sam's shoulder, Dean took in the boy's fresh clean scent with every breath. His gaze sometimes lingered on his face, or his lip... he had a maddening tendency to chew on it, or worse yet, let his tongue dart out to lick it. Fuck... Dean could not have been more affected if the boy had been a trained courtesan.

Sam's gaze kept darting over to his master to see if he was watching this knight who was touching what he wasn't suppose to. Would his master say that he had caused it, that he had invited this warrior's touch? Sam took a deep breath, tongue darting out to run over his bottom lip once again as he fidgeted on the horse's back trying to squirm away without drawing the knight's attention to his movements. _Please stop touching me, please! God make him stop! I know this is not right, I know that my master is to be the only one, it's not my fault Lord, I swear! Tis not my fault!_

Dean's hand slipped down lower on Sam's belly, the last two fingers of his hand pressing over his groin. Though they were riding fast and hard, he nuzzled Sam's neck, lips and nose brushing occasionally against soft warm skin, desire coursing through him. It would be hours before he could be alone with his innocent, and this would have to do. The others would understand. Hell, many of his kind could not wait at all? It surprised no one when they took their innocents even within the walls of the monastery. 

Sam's breaths came in gasps when he felt the knight touch him low on his belly, his fingertips brushing across his groin, an area that even Sam himself was never allowed to touch any more than he had to when relieving himself or washing. The muscles of Sam's stomach clenched as he sat slightly straighter, back stiff, trying to make himself taller so that those fingers would not be where they had no right. The face turned against his neck had Sam squeezing his eyes closed as his heart thundered in his chest as hard and loud as the horses hooves against the earth. He swallowed hard as he sat there with the handsome knight's face buried against his neck, his breaths warm against Sam's skin.

He felt Sam stiffen, could feel his heart beating and somehow knew that the boy hardly dared to breathe. So afraid, so innocent, and all his. The knowledge sent lust coursing through the knight's veins. His fingers slipped just a little lower, pulsing with the beat of the horse's galloping steps. When Peter turned to look at them, Dean deliberately went so far as to kiss Sam's throat, leaning forward to suck on his adam's apple, before pulling back again, but only because they were riding too hard for him not to have a clear view of the road. 

Sam's lips parted as his breaths panted out, fearful breaths as the knight continued to touch him, his hand somehow only managing to sink owner on his stomach, his fingertips firmly against his groin. Sam's body jerked, startled, his eyes wide. _No, no, no..._ Again, he glanced over at his master, afraid, so afraid that the knight behind him was going to get him into trouble. Sam sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, his hands clenching onto the horses mane, fistfuls of the animals hair as he tried to lean forward, move away.

He glanced at his master once more, only to see him look back, making Sam's eyes widen. Then, even more so, if it were possible as the warrior behind him dared to kiss his throat. Sam's lips parted as he gasped out a breath before gritting his teeth. "Please, if you have a heart, do _not_ touch that which does not belong to you," Sam told the knight. "My master is going to be angered with us both, now please for the love of God," Sam begged him, hoping the man could hear as he shouted his words to be heard above the pounding of horses hooves.

"You think I'm afraid of anyone?" Dean chuckled, still holding the boy despite his attempts to lean away from him. He found Sam's voice melodic, and could not wait to make him shout other things... intimate things. He wondered how thick his voice would get, how his eyes might darken, and how he would look flushed and laying against his white sheets in bed. Thinking about him on all fours, he groaned softly. He had to turn his mind to other things, or else he might change his mind and consummate their relationship on the side of the road.

Shouts from behind had him turning to see the dust from other riders intent on catching up to them. "Milo," he shouted, and when the young knight brought his horse up, Dean ordered Sam to release the horse's mane. Gripping his waist, he pushed him over toward the other rider who reached out as if Sam were a parcel, pulling him across his own steed. "Steven, go with them," Dean shouted, slowing and turning his horse around, even as the two riders took Sam ahead.


	2. Chapter 2

First to be touched by a knight _other_ than his master and now to be taken as though he were a parcel and flung over another's horse? This had to be _the_ worst claiming of an innocent ever. It was because Sam hated to do eventime prayers, that's what it was. God was getting even with him for all the moaning and groaning he did about being kept awake after a long day in the field and forced to pray for two hours and be expected _not_ to fall asleep. 

Finally the horse came to a stop behind a cluster of trees and Sam was allowed to get down. His dignity was sorely bruised, but he tried not to let it show as he hid behind the trees with the other riders, the sounds of swords clashing and clanking filling the air around them, followed by shouts that seemed to come from... - Sam frowned - The knight he had been riding with? Not _his_ master? Sam dared look around the tree, but couldn't see much due to the dust that had been kicked up.

In the next second he was yanked back by the rider whose horse he had been tossed across and told to stay back before his master had his hide. Sam sighed as he did as he was told, though he wasn't so sure his master wouldn't have his hide already due to the knight with the stunning green eyes. 

*

One hour later, Dean and his men left the bodies of their attackers on the side of the road. As they rode, Charles looked at Dean. "You should consummate tonight, then they will have no reason to try to take Samuel from you."

Dean's features hardened. "I do not move at the pace set for me by others."

Someone whistled, much like a bird, and then Milo and Steven came out from between the trees lining the road. 

Though Dean's arm was cut, it didn't show due to his dark clothing, and it was but a nick. Leaning over, and without a by your leave, he hauled his innocent back onto his steed in front of him. "Did you fear for me?"

Sam's eyes had widened to the size of saucers as he was hauled up in front of the same knight he had ridden with before. He frowned. Did he fear for him? Was he suppose to? Fear for a knight that was not his own master? Sam licked his lips nervously, "I - I felt as my master would wish me to feel," he answered as best he could.

Dean wasn't sure whether to be glad or angered by that answer. Of course if he'd told Sam the true circumstances, his answer would have pleased him. "Did they not teach you to think for yourself?" He pulled on the reins, the horse backed up, front legs rearing as they waited for the rest of the men to mount. "Hmm? All that studying and you cannot answer a question for yourself?"

Sam pressed his lips together as his frown deepened, growing annoyed with this knight who thought himself much too important. Sam huffed after a moment, turning his head, chin tilted at a stubborn angle. "I can think for myself just fine, right now I wish not to anger a master I have yet to truly know, nor do I wish to have the knight who seems to think himself immune to my master's wrath think any more highly of himself than he already does. After all, Sir knight, a set of stunning eyes will get you nowhere if you anger those stronger and more powerful than you." Sam thought to let the fool knight think he was speaking of himself angering his master when in truth the words were about the knight. If this warrior thought that Sam would lie for him later and tell his master that he had allowed his advances he was sorely mistaken. It mattered not that Sam would rather it be this knight who touched him.

Once again, Dean was left wondering whether he should be flattered or injured. He spoke well of his eyes, and yet Sam thought he could be bested by Peter. Peter was a seasoned and capable fighter, which was why the man was both friend and right hand to Dean, however, why did Sam think the man was stronger or better? "Think you I have stunning eyes, then?" He smirked, "you may feel free to stare into them for as long as you like." 

Sam opened his mouth to argue the fact, only to snap it closed again with a sigh. What was the use? Apparently nothing he said was going to make this warrior see that he belonged to another and should not be touched or spoken to in such a way. Sam only hoped that his master knew this man well enough to know it was his doings and not Sam's. Just to be safe, Sam closed his eyes and hung his head as he worried his lip, his long hair concealing most of his face. Mayhaps if he looked as if he was completely at the warriors mercy, his master would see it was not _his_ fault.

Then they were off again, at breakneck speed, wanting to reach the shelter offered by an inn before nightfall.

* * *

After stabling their horses, they rented rooms at the King's Head Inn, three rooms for Dean, Peter and Charles, and two additional rooms for the rest to share. They took up half of the tavern between them and sitting at a few long tables ordered ale, meat and cheese. Peter told one of the others to take Sam's belongings to the room. Sam was placed between Peter and Dean at the table.

"Is your arse sore, lad? I know you're not used to riding for long hours," Peter asked, revealing his missing teeth in response to the laughter at the table.

Sam, who had been sitting with his head bowed, looked up abruptly when the question was asked of him. His first thought was to say no, that he was fine, his second was to say yes, as his master smiled at him, hoping that if he claimed to be sore and tired he would not be laid with tonight. Sam swallowed hard before opening his mouth to answer, only to snap it closed as the damn arse of a knight next to him had to open up his big mouth.

"I make a good cushion, isn't that true?" Dean asked, a challenge in his eyes.

Sam looked over at the knight he had ridden with, he was about to tell him that, 'No, he did not make a good cushion, but he was sure octopi were envious of his many hands', when the wind was knocked out of Sam's sails by the challenge in the warriors eyes.

Lowering his head, Sam nodded mutely.

Shaking his head, Dean pushed the mug of ale toward Sam. "Unless you prefer... milk." That brought on a new round of laughter.

Sam would have told him that he had never had ale, that they had only drunk water or watered wine at the monastery, but at the rousing laughter, obviously at _his_ expense, he decided to keep his mouth shut and drink the stuff. 

The buxom wenches brought platters of food to the table, leaning forward as they served and joking with the men ogling their wares. Dean studied Sam's reactions.

Sam lowered his head each time the women brought food to the table, he was at first unsure about whether they realized the display they were putting on, but Sam wasn't stupid, it only took a second for him to figure it out. Now, he definitely was not going to look up, even if it meant he had to pull his plate into his lap.

Snickering, Dean tore off a piece of bread and passed it to Sam, then started to fill his mouth. A hard day of riding made him feel like a man starved for days. For a while, he said nothing, using the bread to scoop sauce from the meat, and alternating with swallows of ale to wash it down. 

"Eat lad," Peter told Sam, then asked, "and what do you think of the outside world, what you have seen of it thus far?" He closed his hand around his mug, and waited. "You do have a tongue to speak with?"

Dean's face jerked up, and he gave Peter a warning look but said nothing.

Sam raised his head and swallowed, nodding, then realized what he was doing and licked his lips. "Y-yes, sir. I'm sorry, I-" he glanced around the table before looking back at the man who now seemed to be his master, "I was taught not to speak unless spoken to and then only when I had something worth telling." He cleared his throat and licked his lips again nervously. "The world outside our monastery lands is," he pressed his lips together, "different, but not bad, I think."

Sam took a small bite of bread and reached for his ale, his head still slightly lowered. Taking a drink, he nearly choked, sputtering and coughing as he pulled the tankard away from his lips.

Snapping his fingers, Dean asked for water and moved out of the way as a wench set it down in front of Sam. "Ale is an acquired taste. Surely you've had wine in the monastery." He knew the monks partook of the wine they made. He was about to ask a question, when one of the others made a ribald joke. Naturally that got the others started, and everyone around the table started to laugh and take a turn. 

When they were done with their meal, Dean saw that half of the jokes went over Sam's head. Without looking at him, he placed his hand over Sam's firmly enough that the boy couldn't pull away. He knew there was strength in the hand under his, and didn't miss the fact that Sam pressed his hand flat onto the table and went rigid. Using his middle finger, Dean stroked back and forth, dipping it between the juncture of two of Sam's fingers, caressing slowly... suggestively, wondering what the boy would do if his finger were replaced with his tongue.

Sam sat quietly, knowing he could not be excused from the table until his master told him. His hands were braced lightly on the table top as he was taught at the monastery. One should never have ones hands in their lap while dining, no elbows on the table, sit up straight and remember your manors, your place in life and why you were there. Yes, Sam remembered all of his teachings. But when the knight's hand found his, Sam had to force himself not to gasp in a breath, though his posture stiffened dramatically, his eyes widening. He tried to pull his hand out from under the warrior's as he glanced over at his master, but found that he was unable. Then he felt the man actually start to run his finger between his own. Sam took in a shuddering breath through parted lips as he looked down at his hand covered by the knight's. "Please..." he whispered, tugging lightly on his hand, trying to free it.

Leaning toward Sam, his mouth inches from the boys, he asked, "Yes? Did you ask for something?" His finger never stopped fucking the boy between the fingers, only moving slightly to fresh territory. 

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips nervously, as his gaze darted to his master, then back into the stunning green eyes of the knight before him. He shook his head, glaring down at their hands, then looking back at the knight, "Please..." he whispered again.

Nodding, Dean threaded his fingers through Sam's and pulled both their hands into his lap, pressing Sam's palm into his thigh and rubbing his thumb over the back of Sam's hand. Heat seeped through the material of his pants. Between the close-up of Sam's lips, and the touch of his hand, his heart started to race as if they were engaged in bed sport. He'd chosen wisely, his body recognized Sam as his salvation. Did the boy not feel it?

Sam bit his lip, an uneasy feeling rushing through his system as the knight laced their fingers together and moved them to his lap. _No! No, that wasn't... that's not..._ Sam chewed on his lip as butterflies danced in his chest, his heart fluttering. Fear. He told himself, fear that he was going to be taken outside and whipped or worse. And here this warrior thought he was playing a game, touching what was not his.

Releasing his lip, Sam licked them as he gazed into the knights eyes, eyes he could definitely get used to staring into. Sam swallowed hard. That was probably not something he should be thinking right now, and instead, he should be trying to figure a way to cleverly remove his hand from the knight's leg, _discreetly_.

Peter turned to look at them. "More ale?"

Sam jumped nearly off the bench seat hearing his master's voice, his eyes widening as he tugged hard on his hand to get it away from the other knight's. Lips parted in shock that his master was talking to him and _this_ was happening, Sam looked over at him, his cheeks slowly turning pinker. "No - no, sir." He shook his head adamantly, heart thundering.

"Is something amiss?" Peter asked.

Dean allowed Sam's hand to escape, but this time, he put his hand on the boy's thigh, squeezing slightly. "Tell him you're fine."

Sam took his hand back and was about to tell his master that his knight here was touching his property, when the knight in question added his two cents to the matter. Looking back into brilliant green eyes, Sam tilted his chin up slightly at a stubborn angle as he reached down under the table and shoved the knight's hand away from his thigh. "No, my lord, I'm fine," Sam answered stiffly, slightly slanted hazel eyes boring into the errant knight.

"He is indeed fine." The instant Peter's head turned, Dean leaned in and brushed his mouth across Sam's. "Very fine." By the time Peter turned to them, he was sitting straight and lifting his mug to his lips.

Sam gasped in a breath as the knight's lips touched his. His lips stayed in the shocked, slightly parted position they'd formed, as Sam's eyes tracked the knight, still trying to process what had just happened. Sam sat there dumbly for a few moments before finally snapping his mouth closed and swallowing. 

"We have an early ride. Time for me to retire." At Peter's statement, most of the others got up, though Dean and Charles were engaged in a heated discussion over who was the hero of the last battle they were in. 

"Take Samuel to the room," Peter told one of the other lads, knowing Dean could be up drinking all night, though the wise thing would be to consummate. One year ago, he'd been on edge. This morning he'd been on edge. Now... now it was as if nothing was bothering him. Always had to be an enigma, that one.

A chill ran down Sam's back as he heard his master say that he was going to retire. He was suddenly half tempted to throw himself into the green-eyed knights arms and beg him to not let the man have him, but Sam wasn't a child anymore, he would have to be strong and do what he had to, fulfill his position in life. Swallowing hard, Sam started to get up as his master did, his gaze flickering over to the one his master had told to take him to their room, before he hung his head and turned to follow after him obediently.

The knight lead Lord Winchester's innocent to one of the bedrooms above stairs, then told him he would guard the room until his Lordship arrived.

*

Inside the bedroom, Sam stared at the door for a moment before looking around the room. The bed against the wall seemed to scream at him so he avoided it, going to the small window and looking out. He stood there a while worrying his bottom lip before he began to pace, twisting his hands in front of him as he did, his head bowed, lip between straight white teeth chewing away at it as he tried to talk down his rising fear. His chest ached with it, his stomach was fluttering, he was sure he was breaking out in a cold sweat.

Finally, Sam sank down on the bed, but as he sat there, he slowly turned his head and gazed at the pillows and thoughts of laying there beside that man ran through his head and he quickly jumped up as though he'd seen a ghost, his back colliding with the wall as he stared at the bed in wide eyed horror.

Gulping in a few breaths, Sam slowly moved away from the wall and started to pace again.

*

Almost two candle-marks later, Dean took leave of Charles and headed up the stairs. Relieving the guard, he walked into the small room and found Sam pacing. However the boy stopped mid-step and stared at him, eyes wide. 

"Hmmm. I would have thought you'd have been in my bed by now." His innocent appeared so nervous that Dean thought he might sprout wings at any moment and take flight. "Should I be flattered, you waited up for me?" He started to take off some of his clothes, but his eyes were focused on Sam's face. 

Sam licked his lips nervously, leaning to look behind the knight, even though the door was closed. Finally, Sam looked at the warrior's face. "Y - your room?" he asked, tearing his gaze away to look around, "but I thought..." Sam looked back at the knight only to look away again, his cheeks stained a delicate pink, as the knight was getting undressed.

"Mine," he agreed, without elaborating and noticing the blush. 

Sam head turned away, eyes squeezed closed. He spoke softly, "I think I was brought to the wrong room." He bit his lip, as he ran his hands down his sides, wiping away the sweat, his heart hammering in his chest. "Can - can you show me the way to," Sam swallowed, "to my lord's room?"

"Are you object to being in my room?" Dean raised an eyebrow, then moved behind Sam, and spoke near his ear. "Is there... something about me you object to? Am I..." he stroked the side of the boy's face, though Sam still refused to look at him. "... too old? Too round in the belly?" He slid his thumb over Sam's lip, sucking his breath in at how soft and wet it felt. "Do I have warts which scare you? Or is it my teeth or fetid breath that makes you prefer the bed of another?"

Sam started to speak, to tell the knight that 'yes, he objected to being in the wrong room', he did not want to stir his masters wrath, that it was what he had been trying to tell the man all day it seemed, but then the warrior was standing behind him, far to closel, Sam could feel his body heat radiating off of him, could smell the scent of leather and earth that came from him, not bad smells, strong, woodsy, manly smells, good smells. Sam stood stock still save for the increasingly harder rise and fall of his chest as the knight spoke low in his ear. 

Sam frowned slightly at the words. _Old? No, he was not too old. Too round? No, he had a muscular frame as far as Sam could tell._

Sam sucked in a breath as the knights finger ran over his lip, his hands at his sides clenching into fists as warmth ran through his system. Faint, that was what he was going to do. That was what that feeling was. He was going to faint dead away and it would be all this knight's fault for touching what he wasn't suppose to.

A tortured small whimper left Sam's throat as he stood there, wanting to tell this knight to stop, to go away, to take him to his master, and yet at the same time, he did not want to go to that other man, he wanted to stay here with this knight, wanted _him_ to be his master, not the other.

 _Warts? No, I don't see any- teeth, breath..._ Sam's eyes opened wide as he sucked in a shocked breath and turned, looking at the knight, before he quickly spun away. "You heard me!?" Sam asked him, although Sam was not looking at the knight, his words were spoken as though he were glaring at him.

Sam might not be able to look at him half undressed, but he could sure as hell find out what was going on and how much this knight had heard. "You - you heard what I said to Brother John!?" Sam shook his head, "How? When?" Sam swallowed, lifting his head, his back going rigid, "Does my master know?" he asked, voice softer, as his eyes closed, fearing that he was already in trouble from the start.

"Yes." He knew he should stop toying with his innocent, he'd tortured him enough for his own amusement. Moving his hand to the side of Sam's throat, he turned his face toward him. "I know." When Sam finally opened his eyes, he added, "You may call me Dean, except when you are talking _about me_ , then I'm Lord Winchester." _Your lord and master._ He didn't say the words, but he felt them to his core. This youth belonged to him henceforth, belonged to him completely.

Sam's eyes widened, his breath escaping him in a rush. Hazel eyes searched green for the truth. Sam wasn't sure if he wanted to hug him or hit him. He was just so relieved that he would not be going to bed with.... Sam didn't even want to think about it. Finally, Sam nodded, hanging his head slightly. "I - I beg your forgiveness, my lord, I -" he looked up, shaking his head, "you were not suppose to hear that." Sam told him, again worrying his lip. 

"It amused me," he said honestly, reminding him he could call him Dean but leaving it up to him. "Have a bit of wine." It wasn't a request. Dean moved to the table where there was a pitcher, and poured two cups. Passing one to Samuel, he moved to sit on the edge of the bed as he stripped his shirt and under shirt off. He was toeing his boots off, but still watching Sam's. "Drink, and don't turn away from me."

Sam looked down at the cup of wine for a moment before he brought it to his lips and sipped a little, making sure not to choke this time. He had started to turn noticing that the knight was taking off more clothes, but stopped as he was told, instead worrying his lip and looking down at his cup. "I - we never had unwatered wine. The monks," he shrugged a shoulder slightly, "they did at times." Sam pressed his lips together, "At communion, but that was a sip." He took another sip from his cup. He was rambling, about things his master likely didn't care about, but he was nervous.

Dean nodded. "Life will be different for you now. Are you afraid?"

Sam started to look up only to avert his gaze once more, staring into his cup as he pressed his lips together. "I - I'm nervous," he licked his lips, "I don't know what to expect," he frowned. "I was more afraid when I thought you were..." he didn't finish his words, biting his lip instead.

"Peter," he supplied, his gaze no less intense. "Yes, he's fearsome. He might have fallen asleep on you. Whereas I hardly ever sleep." He clamped down on a grin. 

Sam's eyes widened as his head snapped up, only to close his eyes tight, a deep blush working its way across his cheeks as he shook his head. "That wasn't what I was afraid of." He cleared his throat.

"No? What were you worrying about then?" He wondered whether he could make Sam's entire body flush the way his face did. Wondered how he might look on his great big bed at home, with nothing on and the the bed curtains giving them privacy. He licked his lips. "And more importantly, why are you less afraid now?"

Sam frowned into his cup, releasing his bottom lip to lick them, "I, um, that is," he shifted his weight, turning slightly to place the cup on the table next to the pitcher. "At the monetary," he frowned harder, bit his lip and wrapped his arms around himself, feeling as though he were standing bare before the knight suddenly. "There were knights who.... _touched_ others and I," Sam ran his hands up and down his biceps as if he were suddenly cold, "I didn't want - want him to..." Sam shook his head, letting his sentence trail off, not knowing how to finish it, and not able to anyway, the deep stain on his cheeks seemed to be growing, he could feel it now, and was sure he was the color of the scarlet cloths inside the chapel at the monetary.

Listening to Sam stutter as he told the simple tale, trying to avoid the details, his innocence and naivety was painfully obvious. He kept walking into verbal traps. "And... you're less afraid because you _want_ me to _touch_ you?" he asked, voice dropping down an octave, mouth now aching to steal a kiss... a touch. He knew he could make any demand, take any way he wanted, and that knowledge thrilled the darkness that lived within him, that part of him he had to control, and which Sam would help him control.

Sam swallowed hard as he stared at the cup on the stable as if it were his savior, "I -" Sam paused, not knowing how to finish this sentence. Did he _want_ him to? No, yes, maybe. Sam didn't know about _wants_ , so how could he answer that? "I - am indeed lucky to have you as my master., he finished, satisfied that it was a good enough way to answer the question put to him.

It wasn't as direct an answer as Dean wanted, but it was to be expected. "Luck wasn't involved. I chose you," he said, remembering that day eight years ago very well. "When I was young, your age," he nodded. "Take another sip, then take your robe off for me. Please," he added more softly.

Sam started to pick up the cup and drink, only to pause as he clenched his jaw, hand tightening around the cup before he gave a stiff nod. Bringing the cup to his lips, Sam did not sip as he was told, being as nervous as he was, and the sudden fear that blossomed in the pit of his stomach like a rock. Instead, he gulped down the wine, only putting the cup down when it was nearly empty.

This was it, this was what he had been chosen and trained for since his youth, he was to be this knight's innocent, taken and claimed tonight. He would not weep as the girls did, he would not beg and plead as he heard some do through the monetary walls, no he was going to be brave.

Dean watched the expressions chase over the boy's face. Fear. Uncertainty. Then sheer will replacing the other emotions as he lifted his chin bravely. _That's my boy._

Shaking hands went to the robe's belt at his waist and slowly unfastened it. As the cord fell to the floor, Sam forced himself to lift his head and look at his knight, slightly slanted hazel eyes staring intently into wide expressive brilliant green as he reached down to pull his robe up and over his head.

Letting the thick white robe fall to the floor, Sam started to clasp his hands before him, then behind him, then before him again, unsure what to do with them. Finally he opted for letting his arms hang at his sides, hands curled into fists, his jaw clenched tight as he waited.

To say he was affected was an understatement. Dean's entire body clenched with desire at the sight of long, lean limbs, well muscled and he knew firm to the touch. His gaze swept back up, lingering at the pulse point at Sam's throat ... beating out of control, and then to meet his eyes. His breath hitched. 

Gazes locked, a battle raged within Dean. One part of him demanding he tear the brais off, take the boy now, that was his right, take him, slake his lust, make him his... claim him as his savior from the dark. Another part of him, the side that had wanted to weep for the boy when he was taken behind monastery walls, when he was denied the comfort of hugs and touches, that side battled harder. A new day had dawned, and he owed the boy something. Yes they were fated to be together, but there were choices as well. 

Jaw clenched, he got up and reached Sam in a few strides. The need to pulling up hard against him was so strong, he had to bite down on his own lip to control it. Reaching out, he touched Sam's face, sliding his thumb into his mouth, then moving down to caress his throat, and chest. "You're beautiful. Has anyone told you?" he asked, voice rough with lust and wonder. 

Sam automatically took a single step back as the knight rose from the bed and come toward him, his eyes widening, his heart racing.  
At the gentle touch to his face, Sam nearly sighed, though his body remained rigid, stiff, his heart beating so loud he was sure that his master could hear it. The thumb that slipped into his mouth through his parted lips surprised him, but he stood perfectly still, allowing this knight, _his_ knight to do as he wished, sucking in a deep shuddering breath as the warriors calloused hand moved down to caress his throat and chest. 

Sam swallowed hard, frowning to concentrate on the man's words, he shook his head slightly, "N - no." He licked his lips, "C - Christiana once said I reminded her of the dogs at the monetary," he whispered the words, almost breathlessly, his chest rising and falling faster, heart thundering in his ears, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists at his sides.

"Dogs. She must be blind," he answered, now placing both hands on Sam's chest and exploring the hard planes of his body, moving over his abs and sides. Somehow he knew he would never get tired of touching his innocent. That he'd always be drawn to touch him, just as he had been when they'd been riding and eating at the table. "Do you know of _coupling_?" He knew the monks would never have detailed it for the young ones in their care. "Have you seen animals rutting?" 

Sam clenched his jaw, muscle twitching as he gave his head a small tight shake, then licked his lips at the question. "I - I had to care for - for the animals, it was part of my chores. I've seen," he looked up quickly, eyes slightly wide, "but, I didn't watch!" Sam added quickly in case that was what his master wanted to know.

"Hmm. I always watched when I was a child." Then again, he hadn't been sheltered, and nothing could clamp down on his curiosity... it had nearly gotten him killed many a time. Dean stepped closer, putting his hands on Sam's ass, the thin and worn material under his palms barely a separation. Pulling him flush against his body, he allowed him to feel his arousal straining against his britches. "Does _this_ ever happen to you?" His mouth skimmed over the curve of Sam's neck and shoulder, a low moan breaking from him as he struggled to keep his control. It was so fucking hard.

A strangled cry broke from Sam's throat as Dean's hands grabbed his ass, pulling him up against Dean's rather obvious arousal, somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, before Sam bit his lip, his hands rising to press against Dean's shoulders in reflex, though he wasn't pressing hard. Sam shook his head, "I - no, I mean, in the morning, sometimes, I -" He turned such a deep shade of red, he was sure he was going to incinerate, just simply burst into flames from his embarrassment at any moment. He swallowed hard as he turned his head away from Dean's and squeezed his eyes closed, his the knights lips skimming over his flesh.

The squirming and pushing excited Dean something fierce. Did the boy know what he was doing to him? In and effort to control himself, he pressed his mouth down, sucking hard on the skin on the side of Sam's throat... so soft... so perfect. This boy was meant for him, he felt in in every fiber of his body. "Do you touch yourself? _Here_?" he asked, rolling his hips forward. "When you're hard... in the mornings?"

Sam sucked in a breath before curling his lips in and pressing them together tightly as his master sucked at his neck, his hands at the knights shoulder curling into fists.The breath that he had been holding as his master sucked at his flesh left him in a rush as he quickly opened his eyes and looked at him. "No!" Sam shook his head adamantly, "No, I never, I swear!" Sam told him, eyes wide. "I know that to touch there is forbidden, I would never, I - " Sam pressed his lips together and hung his head, "I am not impure, my lord," he told him softly, sadly, thinking perhaps his master thought he had not gotten as good as he had bargained for.

"Shshsh, I didn't say you are that. I accept you are pure. You are _mine,_ " he said, dipping his head down to find Sam's mouth, kissing him gently like a child's kiss, though it almost killed him. "You may touch yourself anytime you want... after I have touched you," he said, wanting to be the first... it was his right. His duty. "Get in bed."

Dean moved away abruptly and took the goblet that Sam had abandoned, refilled it and drank all of the liquid down in an ill-fated attempt to cool his lust.

Sam stood, lips parted, his heart hammering in his chest, fear rooting him in the spot as he watched Dean drink. Tearing his gaze away to look at the bed, Sam took a leaden step forward, then another, slowly crossing the distance, his posture stiff as he made his way over, sitting down tentatively on the edge of the bed. He lay back, his arms stiff and ridig, hands clenched into white knuckled fists at his sides as he stared up at the ceiling. "I - I am ready," he cleared his throat, "my Lord."

Following, but stopping before he reached the bed, Dean started to undo his breeches. "Ready for what?" As he pushed his pants down, his brais tented, a clear indication of the lust coursing through his body. And yet, he could still play... amuse himself with his naive and not so little innocent.

Sam's eyes moved, though he held the rest of his body stock still, as he looked over at Dean, "Fff - for you to - to," again he felt the heat rise to his face, burn his cheeks. He tore his gaze away looking down as he licked his lips, "For you to do whatever pleases my Lord," he answered softly, the fingers of his hands curling slightly tighter, making his short blunt nails dig into and cut his palms.

In his mind's eye, Dean saw himself pulling Sam's arms above his head, pinning him down under his body, ravaging his mouth. He knew if he let himself go, nothing short of the maddening lust that often followed battle would have him in its grips and that he would take Sam in every way possible, unable to gentle his touches... he'd be like those knights who had scared him. One day maybe he could take him like that.

"No," he said tightly, blowing the candles out and moving to the bed. The mattress sagged under his weight, and then he rolled closer to Sam under the covers. "I don't imagine you would like what pleases me." He started to loosen the boy's brais, his hand brushing over untouched territory. 

Sam lay as still as possible, even when he wanted to bolt from the bed as his master lay down beside him. Instead he clenched his jaw, concentrated to continuing to breathe, to lay still and do as he was supposed to. His heart hammered so hard it nealry hurt, or at least he thought that was what the odd feeling was fluttering around inside him.

When Dean started to untie his brais, Sam held his breath, he wanted to move, wanted to turn away, wanted to move his hand as he felt him brush areas that Sam himself never touched unless he simply had to. He didn't think he had actually started to move, but then had to wonder if maybe he had with his master's next words.

"Don't pull away." He touched him again over the thin cotton, and started pulling it down off his body, his palms exploring and squeezing Sam's thighs, fingers digging in a little as his own cock began to throb uncontrollably. 

Sam swallowed and nodded, muscles rippling under the skin of his thighs as Dean touched, and Sam fought with himself not to move, to lay still and allow his master to do what it was he wanted. Sam's breaths began coming faster, deeper, his chest rising and falling with each one, his palms sweating as he continued to squeeze his hands into tight fists, heart hammering. Again that sound escaped Sam's throat, somewhere between a gasped breath and a whimper before he squeezed his eyes closed and he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth.

Once he had him naked, Dean ran his hand back up Sam's body, over his cock and up his stomach, casually bringing it to the side of Sam's face and making him turn toward him. "Now... you undress me. The same way.... _touch_ me, and don't rush." The thought of those long fingers brushing against him, sliding down his body, it made Dean go impossibly harder. "Kiss me first," he demanded as an after thought, his gaze latching onto Sam's much abused lower lip. 

Sam released his lip, he was shaking, trembling, but he wasn't going to mention how nervous he was or how scared, or the fact that he was feeling light headed or that his heart was likely going to burst out of his chest any minute now. Slowly he looked over at Dean as he licked his lips, "I - I don't know," he shook his head. No, that wasn't true, he knew how to kiss. He used to kiss the animals on the head when he thought they needed it because they looked sad to him, although he had a feeling that wasn't quite the way his master wanted him to kiss. Well, it was all Sam knew, he didn't know how to do what he had seen some of the knights do to the others before they disappeared into other rooms, their tongues pressing past innocent lips. 

With a deep breath, Sam gave a nod, moving to lean up on an elbow as he turned toward Dean and leaned his head down, and pressed a rather loud smacking kiss on his knights lips, then pulled his head back to look down at him, biting his lip as he gazed into brilliant green eyes, silently asking with his own, 'How was that?'

What the fu--. "Perfect," Dean forced the lie out between his teeth. He hadn't expected Sam to know how to do more than touch their lips together, but he hadn't expected the sound that often accompanied mother's kissing their babes. He was the farthest thing from a babe. 

The beautiful smile that spread across his innocent's face made Dean glad he'd told the lie. He put his hand on Sam's hip. "Now fit your mouth over mine... _don't_ kiss... just hold it there as you get my brais. Don't forget to touch me like I touched you." Unconsciously, he was using his hand to rock Sam back and forth toward him.

Sam's smile slowly faded, replaced with parted lip that his breath was panting out of, his hand on the bed gripping the pillow tightly as the knight had him nearly rocking against him, something Sam didn't understand, but it was making butterflies dance in his stomach and that warmth rush through him again. He just hoped he didn't pass out before he did everything his master wanted. He hadn't felt ill at the monastery, but he was apparently coming down with something.

Sam frowned at the directions that his master gave him, but was determined to do well, liking the feeling of pride that had come when his Lord had told him his kiss had been perfect. He gave a small curt nod as he leaned his head down, pressing his lips against Dean's, not moving, just breathing in and out, their lips pressed together, breathing in Dean's breaths, the knight breathing in his as his hand slowly started to lower, fingertips dancing across Dean's chest then stomach as he moved his hand slowly lower to the knights waist and the string fastening of his brais. His long fingers danced across the area, blindly searching for the start of the tie, before pulling it, and freeing it. Sam moved his hand upward slightly, laying flat against the knights hip as he pushed one side of the brais down, then his hand moved, slipping across Dean's stomach to his other hip to press the fabric down on that side.

The soft tentative touches left Dean burning for so much more. It had been many years since his first coupling, he could hardly remember a time anymore when he didn't get straight to easing the ache that cursed a man between the legs. Never had it felt more like a curse, and a gift. The feelings building up inside the hardened warrior were so strong, he was certain he would succumb to his desires the way many others before him had, taking their innocents hard and fast the first time. He groaned, against sweet, soft lips, he made sound of anguish, pressing his lips only a litter harder against Sam's, forcing himself to wait.

Sam's brow creased as he concentrated on what he was doing, blindly fumbling with his hand trying to pull the material from his master's body.

Dean's hips rolled forward, toward's Sam's touch. He pulled him closer, making it more difficult for him to undress him but unable to release him. God... how he ached, how he needed, how he was tortured by thoughts of shoving Sam on his back, forcing his knees apart, and ramming his thick length deep inside him. If he kept him waiting... he just might...

Sam let out a breath of air, straight into Dean's mouth, their lips even more pressed together. He pulled his head back slightly further, lashes fluttering as he opened his eyes, his lips so close to Dean's they brushed as he spoke, "I don't- I can't, um," Sam licked his lips, the tip of his tongue touching Dean's in the process before he pulled it back.

Sam pulled his head a bit more away, "With my lips here, I can't, I mean -" he bit his lip, his eyes darting downward, angry at himself that he couldn't seem to do as his master asked, "I'm sorry, I'm just a clumsy idiot," Sam shook his head, his face distorted in an anguished frown at himself.

The last shred of his control broke. Dean pulled him almost roughly closer, clamping his mouth over Sam's, crushing their lips together, pushing his tongue inside the wet heat of his innocent's mouth. Groaning, he grabbed Sam's hand, using it to push his own brais down, then pressing Sam's palm over his hard cock... needing the touch of his innocent. 

As the knight's tongue invaded his mouth, Sam gagged a little, fighting to control his rising fear, as he squeezed his eyes closed, just letting his master do with his mouth as he wanted. As his hand was grabbed and forced to push the man's brais down, then laid over his erection, Sam'e body jerked slightly, his own breaths coming faster, fear steadily rising inside of him, his fingers, his hand splayed wide, afraid to do anything, not knowing _what_ to do.

So good, so right, Sam was the light to the darkness within Dean... he could sense it. The knight couldn't fight it any more, he rolled on top of Sam, mouths still melded, bucking his body against him, breaths getting labored as he used his knee to part Sam's. He needed. Wanted. Had to be sheathed by his innocent, had to find calm for the storms raging within him. 

Sam's eyes popped open, wide and fearful, his hands rising to his masters shoulders, pushing him back, as he rutted atop of him. "No, please, oh my God... " Sam gasped out the words, his heart hammering. So this was what it was like, this was what it was to be claimed. Now he understood why the girls would leave in tears. Why he would hear them screaming, their pleas echoing through the monastery. "Please, I'm sorry, give me another chance, I -" Sam struggled against his master, even knowing it was wrong, even as he told himself to be strong and take it, to do as he was suppose to, to let his master take what he wanted, some part of himself was too terrified to listen, so he struggled, neck arching back, lips parted, face flushed, his heart hammering in his chest as he pushed and shoved at his master.

No. How could his innocent, the one he owned, had chosen, had supported... how could he say 'no' to what had to be, what should be? He shouldn't... couldn't. A snarl welled up from Dean's throat. Easily, he grasped both of Sam's hands, and pinned them above his head. Stabbing his tongue inside his mouth once again, he thrust against him, fire consuming his very being at the thought of being inside... _salvation_. 

His arms suddenly pinned, Sam's eyes widened as he looked up at the knight, his breaths panting out before his knight's tongue invaded his mouth. "Oh God, no...please...not like this... not like this... please, I'll do better, I swear! I'm sorry, _please!_!" Sam begged after tearing his mouth away. His heart beat so hard in his chest Sam was sure it as going to beat it's way out, fear like he had never known gripping him, tears stung his eyes but he fought them back, even as whimpers tore from his throat, his head thrashing as he arched and struggled.

From a distance, Dean heard the whimpers of fear. The pleas. The apologies. "Need to claim you. Make you mine," he countered, thrusting against him harder. Another whimper from the boy broke through the haze of his mind. "Don't fight me... Stop... stop it so that I can fight this," he ground out, trying to regain control of his limbs, his body, his very soul and nature, all clamoring at him to take the boy now.

Sam's breaths gasped out at every thrust of the knights hard muscled body against his, every rub of his hard cock against his body. Head turned to the side, Sam bit his lip, refusing to look at the knight anymore, refusing to see, to be part of what was happening to him. He had thought that his knight, his master, was different... tender, gentle, with brilliant beautiful eyes and sweet words, only to learn that he was just like the others, just a prettier face and form. 

He slowly stilled, as he closed his eyes, unshed tears wetting his lashes, as straight white teeth bit hard into his bottom lip. Sniffling softly, Sam licked his lips. "I thought you were different," Sam said softly, almost to himself as he slowly opened his eyes, staring at a spot on the wall.

The boy had no idea what a struggle it was, the strength of will Dean had to exert over himself, how rare it was to be able to fight the claiming drive. When he succeeded in finding a modicum of control, Dean rolled off his innocent, but caught his last words. "And now you are back to wanting Peter," he said, forcing himself onto his back, hands under his head, a reminder not to reach out. "I'm sorry you don't understand. Sleep now," he said roughly, the order directed to himself as much as to his innocent.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed. No, he didn't want Peter, he didn't want anyone. He wanted to go home, wanted to go back to the monestary where he was free to not be touched to be with people who were kind and didn't scare him. 

Slowly he rolled over onto his side, facing away from Dean, curling up into a ball the way he had to at the monestary to fit on his pallet. Although he wanted to obey, didn't want to disappoint yet again, Sam found sleep impossible, his heart still hammering out a fearful beat, his arms and hands shaking as he chewed his nails.


	3. Chapter 3

The warrior awakened early, before the cock crowed. His sleep had been strangely peaceful. Not for years had he slept as deeply, with no nightmares to wake him. The answer was at his side. Laying naked, and also peaceful in slumber. 

Dean drew Sam close, pulling him into his arms, settling his head on his chest. He kissed his temple, held him with a gentleness that did not hint at the fires of desire still burning within him. 

Sam's head turned as he licked his lips, lashes fluttering as he slowly opened them, blinking awake. A frown of confusion creased his brow as he lay there a moment before everything, the events of the day before, where he was, and who he was with, as well his state of undress all coming back to him in an instant that sucked the breath from his lungs. He looked up at his master. "Good Morn, my lord," he muttered out, voice sleep rough and deep. 

Dean searched the boy's face for signs that he'd cried, but seeing nothing, let out a deep breath. "It appears to be," he answered with a slight smile. "You may sleep for a while longer, if you want." He was more than pleased not to see signs of fear from Sam but knew that might come after sleep was chased from his eyes. 

Sam yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth as he did, then rubbed at his eyes. "It's alright, I normally would be chased from bed soon for morning prayers anyway," he offered a small smile, the hand that had been at his eyes now tentatively touching, laying on his master's chest. Sam bit his lip thoughtfully as he looked at his master. "Did - did you sleep well?" He knew, or at least he _thought_ he knew, that they were suppose to have, coupled last night, and since they did not, he was unsure how or where things stood.

He merely nodded in response, his hand stroking up and down Sam's side.

Sam pressed his lips together as he tore his gaze from Dean's face, looking down. "Are - are you going to take me back?... to the monastery I mean," he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, as he slowly raised his gaze. "I failed you," he admitted softly. 

"How did you fail me?" He wondered if that was fear or disappointment that he saw in the still sleepy set of eyes searching his own. "By making me control the monster within myself?" He shook his head. "You're done with that place. Your place is with me now, you must get used to it." His fingers tightened possessively over what was his, what had always been his.

Emotions danced in Sam's eyes, different ones... from sadness at his being a failure, to confusion, to a mixture of home-sickness and relief to finally settle on acceptance as he nodded his head slightly, his eyes still intent on his master's. "And the answer is yes," Sam told him, a small tentative smile pulling at his lips, "I do think you have stunning eyes." He swallowed hard, unsure that he should have said the words, but trying to have some semblance of a free, maybe teasing, playful banter with this man who was now, it seemed, his whole world.

"Do you, now?" Dean gave a chuckle. "It's a good thing, then. Much better than your distaste for warts... and bad teeth and..." He moved his leg slowly between Sam's, resting his thigh in the juncture of his legs and getting the answer to the question he hadn't voiced... did Sam wake in a state of arousal. "What about the rest of me? Am I am acceptable?" 

Sam's smiled widened as his master chuckled, dimples showing, hazel eyes sparkling. Sam's cheeks turned a soft shade of pink as he rolled his head, his face toward Dean's stomach to hide away from his words being repeated again, his embarrassment that his master had heard him. He nodded his head slightly, making his nose poke Dean in the stomach as he did, before Sam turned his head again to look up at him, "Easy for you to tease me, you did not see the ogres I did that came to the monastery! I swear they had green teeth and three eyes!" Sam chuckled, rolling his eyes.

Sam's laugter died away as he felt Dean's knee between his legs pressing against his cock, the pressure not totally uncomfortable, but foreign, making Sam shift his hips slightly, frowning a little as he did, before his master's new questions stole his attention. He looked Dean over, brows drawn together as if he were indeed studying him intently, "Well, you are not fat, but muscular," his gaze darted back to Dean's eyes, "which is good, nice," he smiled slightly. "You do not smell bad, but rather like the woods, I find that I like the smell, it's different but not distasteful. And your lips," Sam looked down, a blush stealing over his features. He shook his head, "You do not taste bad."

Moving his thigh in circles as he rocked slightly, satisfied that Sam was hardening under the small, barely perceptible movements he made, Dean continued the conversation. "You're pleasing to the eyes as well. Though you were a nice looking boy, I was afraid you might grow a large beak-like nose, or horns. There was a bit of the devil in your sparkling eyes," he confided. It wasn't the sort of joke most told, but he dealt with demons enough that he was used to jesting about evil. "You're not hiding anything from me, are you?" He increased the pressure. 

Sam sucked in a breath as he raised up just slightly, biting his lip and frowning for a moment, the pressure against his groin making him feel funny in ways he never had before, his breaths were coming a bit faster, he was starting to feel slightly breathless like he had carried some of the baskets of grapes from the vineyards and there was a knot growing in his lower belly, a near ache.

Focusing his attention back on the conversation, Sam smiled slightly as he shook his head against Dean's chest. "No, no horns," he chuckled, "and I don't think my nose is beak-like," he nearly crossed his eyes trying to look at it.

"Don't... it could stay that way," Dean said, his anxiety real. "You're beautiful the way you are, right now." He watched him closely, listening as his breathing became more erratic. "We'll be home tomorrow... another day and a half's ride." His own breaths were becoming labored as he became aroused in turn, grinding against Sam just a little harder. "I think you'll like it. You'll have your own room, but you will share my bed every night that I am home."

Sam immediately stopped trying to look at his nose when Dean told him to, a smile on his face. The monks had always told him the same thing whenever he made that face, but it hadn't stopped him from doing it from time to time behind their backs. He pressed his lips together, his hips moving as he tried to find a more comfortable position, but only finding more ache. "Wh - where is 'home', exactly?" he asked, his words starting to sound even more breathless. Finally Sam raised his head, bracing his weight on his forearms as his head hung, his teeth clenched together. "Something's wrong, I don't -" he looked up at his master and shook his head slowly, his expression pained, "I don't feel well." He licked his lips, hands clenching into fists, "it aches."

About to answer him, Dean's breath was sucked out of him. "Aches... where does it ache, Sam?" He bit his lower lip, willing the boy to tell him. 

Sam bit his lip as he looked up at his master. "I - my," a slow blush covered his cheeks as he hung his head again, "stomach, lower area, I -" Sam rolled away, onto his back, one hand started to go to his groin but stopped, clenching the bed linens instead, knowing he was not allowed to touch there. Sam's neck arched back, lips parted, breaths panting out, as his hips moved in slow small thrusts of their own accord. "I think - I think I was poisoned. I felt funny last night," he told his master, words breathless and soft as his head rolled on the pillow.

"Let me see." Feeling only slightly guilty, Dean peeled the covers back, watching Sam writhing with no relief. "I know how to help. Trust me?"

Sam nodded, as he looked at his master, eyes pleading with him to help him, to cure him.

Placing his hand between Sam's knees, Dean slowly made his way up in circular motions. He could see Sam growing even more aroused as his hand neared his cock. "It's aching more now, isn't it? Throbbing? Making you a bit... crazy mad?" he asked, just barely touching Sam's sack, giving it a light squeeze, and moving a little higher.

Sam's breaths came faster, his neck arching, his body moving more, thrusting and writhing, his hands gripped the bed linens in white knuckled grasps, as he grit his teeth. Sam nodded, "Worse, Worse! You're making it worse!" He squeezed his eyes closed, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "Please, my lord, I need, a healing potion! Please!" Sam opened his eyes staring up at his knight, fear for his well being clear in their glazed depths. 

He'd intended to take more time, but could not when his innocent moved so, pleaded so intently as if fearing he would die of pleasure. Closing his fist around Sam's cock, he squeezed, released and squeezed. "This is not pain Samuel." Moving his hand up and down, pumping him slowly, Dean leaned in and licked across Samuel's lips, following the same trail that the boy's own maddening tongue had taken. "Don't fight it... trust me," he repeated, biting back a groan as he felt wetness drip from Sam's tip. 

Sam's head rolled on the pillow as his breaths panted out, his chest rising and falling each time. He tried to follow what his master was saying, tried to make himself understand the words, but they made no sense to him, how was this not pain? It was nothing Sam had ever felt before and it was driving him mad, made him ache and feel as though he were unable to keep still, his body squirming against the bed. Sam pulled a leg up, foot flat against the bed, only to let it slowly slid back down, his hips rolling, thrusting.

He released the linens with one hand, lifting it up near his face, hand clenched into a fist as his master touched him, _there_ , squeezed him and moved his hand along his length. Sam gasped in a breath his neck arching, before his entire back arched off the bed, a low groan leaving him. "Make it go away," his head turned on the pillows, sweat dotting his brow. "Please, my lord, master, D- Dean, make it go away!" 

God. Dean wasn't sure how to keep himself from attacking his innocent, showing him all the mysteries of coupling at once. The way he was moving and pleading. The scent of sex in the air. It made his head spin, it made the darkness stir within him. The need to claim became stronger. No... by God he was not going to take that route. Fighting the darkest of his desires, he moved his entire body between Sam's restless legs. Using the flat of one hand against Sam's stomach to keep him laying in place, he opened his mouth and guided Sam's cock inside.

Sam sucked in a loud gasp of air, his head coming up off the pillows, eyes wide as he looked down at himself, at his master with his mouth on _that_ part of him. His breath was knocked from his lungs as his head fell back onto the pillows, trying to gulp in some much needed air. Die, he really was gonna die from this. He was going to black out and never wake up again.

First Dean sucked only at the beading liquid on the slit at Sam's crown. "This is pleasure, not pain... not pain," he repeated, moving his open mouth over Sam's tip, then sucking him inside. He sucked a little harder, taking more of him in. His innocent tasted just the way he had always dreamed... set his blood on fire the way he knew he would. 

A long whimpered cry broke from Sam's throat as he felt warm wetness at the tip of his cock, surround him, sucking. "Oh my God..." Sam groaned, his head rolling on the pillow. His master told him not to cross his eyes and then he did this?

Pulling off, but still pumping with his hand, Dean looked at Sam. "You may rut in my mouth... it will help," he promised, licking his lips and opening his mouth in invitation.

Sam looked up at his knight through mere slits, eyelids heavy. _Rut in his mouth?_ Sam groaned, eyes rolling up into his head, no, he couldn't, he shouldn't, but his hips seemed to have a mind of their own as they lifted off the bed, thrusting into that warm moist heat. A deep cry of pleasure tearing from Sam's lips as he thrust into Dean's mouth. "Omygod... Ohmygod... ohmygod..." Sam panted out the forbidden words as his hips continued to move, thrusting his aching hard cock into Dean's mouth, his head rolling slowly back and forth on the pillow.

Dean had been afraid his innocent would balk. When he didn't... when he came to him, when he trusted him to take care of his need, a thrilling humm went through Dean's entire body. Sam was his to take care of, and he would. He sucked him, squeezing the base of his cock, twisting his wrist in tandem with his mouth's up and down motions. From the time that he was eighteen, he'd known he needed Sam, needed him to live, to find salvation. Now... now he could show Sam that Sam needed him too, that he could ease the needs the boy had never known he had.

All of his desire. All of his need for his innocent was suddenly focused. Dean gave him everything he had, swallowing his cock down, taking him all the way back in his throat, moving harder... faster. Sounds started to break from Dean... as if he were the one on the receiving end. He didn't care, it mattered not. _Cum... cum... let me help you, cum._

Sam's world was spinning out of control, he couldn't draw enough air, he felt light headed and yet not, his cock ached and yet it was a delicious ache, which just didn't make sense. Up was down and down was up, and all the while, through it all, there was the tight warm wet mouth and his master's hand that kept pushing him deeper into that place where he'd never been where he was afraid to go.

His breaths panted out so hard he was nearly hyperventilating, head thrashing on the pillows, his hands hand moved to grip the sheets tight as his hips bucked so hard they were coming off the bed , his muscles tightening, neck arched back, lips parted, odd sounds breaking from his throat, sounds he didn't recognize, but he didn't care anymore. "Sssstop! Please, stop! Some... something's happening! Oh God, something's happening!" Sam felt heat rush through his veins to pool low in his belly, his balls drawing up tight, his muscles tensed and seemed to lock, face flushed a deep crimson, eyes squeezed tightly closed, grunts and groans sounding from his throat through gritted teeth. 

Suddenly Sam's back arched, shoving his cock deep into his masters mouth, then his back fell onto the bed, as that warmth, that heat, left his body through his cock, his spunk shooting down his knights throat. "OH GOOD GOD!" Sam screamed the words, his body writhing, thrusting his hips as he rode out his first orgasm.

Despite the shouts, Dean never let Sam go. He kept him in his mouth, lips carefully covering his teeth, sucking... jealously guarding... swallowing every drop that left Sam's body. Once Sam stopped moving, he pulled off his still semi-stiff cock, and licked it. then kissed it before releasing it and letting it fall across Sam's thigh. Crawling up Sam's body, bracing his weight on his elbows on either side of the youth's body, he looked down into his face. "It's a _miracle._ I cured you. I think I deserve a kiss."

Sam looked up at his master, breaths panting out, his body trembling, a look of disbelief on his face. Sam shook his head, "What," he swallowed hard. "What did you do to me?" he asked him, licking his lips and nodding. "Teach - teach me to kiss?... The way you would like me to."

"I'll take that as a 'yes.'" Dean lowered his mouth over Sam's, touching briefly, lifting up. "Open for me. Let me inside, like I allowed you inside," he whispered thickly. The instant those scarlet lips parted, Dean's tongue delved inside. He stroked the roof of Sam's mouth, then tangled their tongues together, playing with him, pulling his tongue out and starting all over. It didn't take long for his innocent to learn and to have Dean groaning into his mouth. He was sharply aware that Sam was naked under him, that his still wet cock was caught between their bodies, and that it would not take much to make him plead for aid again, if he wanted.

Sam's hand slowly released the bed linens as Dean kissed him, first to move to Dean's side, to touch him lightly before laying on Dean's back. Soon, Sam's other hand moved to join the first so that his arms were wrapped around his knight as they kissed. The whole idea of the kiss had been odd, different, but soon Sam learned that it was a lot like a playful wrestling match between tongues. His master's moans made Sam feel a sense of pride that he had apparently gotten something right.

When their lips parted Sam smiled up at him slightly as he licked his lips. "I -" he bit his lip, "When you need me, I think, I wouldn't be too afraid to," he tore his gaze away and blew out a breath, feeling his cheeks burn. Taking a deep breath, Sam quickly mumbled out the words. "I can try to do for you what you did to me." There, he'd said it. Slowly he raised his eyes to look back up at his master, worrying his bottom lip.

"Hold that thought until tonight." Dean knew they would be roused any moment. "Why don't you practice? He stuck his tongue out, a challenge lighting his eyes, as his hands went to Sam's hips and he rolled them over so that his innocent lay on top of him. "Start sucking. Mmm?"

Sam frowned as he looked down at Dean now that he had rolled them over. "P - practice?" Sam asked him, his eyes lowering from Dean's eyes to his tongue sticking out of his mouth. Sam frowned down at his master's tongue as though it were a task to be dealt with and mastered. Deep concentration creased his brow as Sam looked at it, tilting his head this way and that, before he lowered his head and parted his lips, taking Dean's tongue into his mouth and sucking for all he was worth, releasing just slightly, enough so that he could move his mouth up slightly, then taking his tongue deeper again. Sucking hard once more and swallowing due to too much saliva in his mouth, he was afraid at any minute he was going to start drooling or something else utterly mortifying.

"Mmm... mmm," Dean groaned. He loved the enthusiasm with which Sam embarked on his practice session, and he could tell that when his mouth covered his cock, he would be in heaven. But the suction was a bit much for his tongue, so he pulled it back inside his own mouth, then put his hand behind Sam's head and started to kiss him again. His hands made their way up and down his body, over his bare ass, tickling him softly. 

When their lips parted, Sam smiled down at his master . "I did, okay?" he asked him. "Brother John used to say all he had to do was show me something once and I caught on well," Sam told him, biting his lip nervously, hoping that his ability to pick up new tasks also went for this area of life as well.

The door to their room suddenly burst open and Sam nearly jumped up to the ceiling, quickly scurrying back and reaching for the linens to cover himself, his eyes wide as he looked toward the door.

"I trust you are nearly ready to ride?" Peter asked, looking from Dean to Sam and back, a smirk pulling at his lips.

Dean didn't bother with the bed sheets, instead sitting up, and merely putting his forearm across his hips in a modicum of modesty. "You should knock. I no longer have tavern wenches warming my bed."

Peter nodded, looking between the two men, one young and shy, the other, a hardened warrior with a new light in his eyes. "Shall I have your breakfast sent to you?"

"No, we will join you."

"You consummated..."

Dean looked up at him, this time the warrior was back, his eyes a frosty green.

"Alright." Peter retreated from the room, closing the door with a sigh. 

Only a moment later two servants knocked and brought in two small basins of water and left. 

"Let's wash up, we have a long day," Dean said, taking Sam's hand and pulling him out of bed. "And Brother John... he's a wise man." As they washed up, Dean pretended not to notice Sam still clutched the linens. "Your new clothes are there," he said, nodding at the table. 

Sam looked toward the table Dean had indicated, his eyes widening, not having seen them before. "Someone was in here!?" he asked, his voice nearly rising an octave as he clutched the linens tighter.

"Only for a moment. When you were... practicing," Dean grinned. "Nothing they haven't seen before, Sam. If it makes you feel better, I will make sure no one ever walks in without knocking."

Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at Dean and nodded. "Yes, please." He turned his head to look at the door then back at Dean, "I - my back side was - and they..." A deep stain spread over Sam's cheeks as he looked down, lifting a hand to run it through his hair before he started to splash some water on his face, the linens held securely around his hips, either by one hand or the other, or when he was using both hands to wash, by leaning a hip against the table so they wouldn't fall. 

Finishing, Sam turned toward the fresh clothes that had been brought for him, then looked over at Dean, then back at the clothes, biting his lip. "I, um, what I mean is -" Sam blushed again hanging his head. Okay, now how was he suppose to ask his master to turn around so he could dress? Was he even allowed to?

"Hmm?" Dean had already started to dress. "Ah... you want an assistant? I was going to get you one when we got home. I'll call a servant to help you." Getting up off the bed, he pulled his breeches up and headed for the door.

Sam's eyes widened, "No! Wait!" he held out a hand toward Dean, as he hurried after him, grabbing him by the arm. "It's not that. I don't want a - no, I was," Sam hung his head worrying his lip a moment before he looked up at Dean again. "I was embarrassed to change with you standing there, I -" he clamped his mouth closed. "No one has ever seen me get dressed or undressed before," he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as hazel eyes searched green hoping he understood.

"I've seen you do both." Seeing the disbelief in Sam's eyes, he added, "what do you think all those holes are for in the walls of the baths at the monastery, and in the other room? We... others like me, we check on the progress of our innocents. Besides, I did have my eyes open this morning when I..." he gestured in the general direction of Sam's groin, a smile spreading across his face. 

Sam's mouth fell open, his eyes wide, a deep red blush stealing not only over his cheeks but spreading down his neck. He was beyond embarrassed he was mortified. Taking a staggering step backward, Sam turned around abruptly and hung his head, eyes closed as he battled the emotions running through him, fighting back the need to cry. He was _not_ going to cry darn it! He was not ten anymore! 

Clearing his throat, Sam nodded slightly, "I - I see." his voice raw, quiet, obviously upset. Reaching out with a trembling hand, Sam grabbing his new clothes and walked back toward the bed so he could dress, any and all lighthearted feeling he had been experiencing gone. He felt dirty, used, confusion and embarrassment churned in his gut making him feel nearly ill.

Sensing the change in Sam, Dean narrowed his eyes. "You _want_ me to leave? _This_ is your problem?" His frown deepened. That would have to change, and it would. Walking across the room, he pulled on his own tunic but left his sword. "Don't tarry, you have to break your fast. We have a long trip." Closing the door behind him, he strode down the hall to the stairs. 

Sam didn't answer the question put to him. Apparently it did not matter what he wanted. Apparently it had never mattered. He was whatever this man wanted him to be, and he was to do whatever he wanted him to do. If he wanted to watch him dress and undress, then it would happen.. it already had. The monks, the very people he had trusted like his family had allowed it to happen, never telling Sam any of it. He wondered when else he had been spied upon. Was it every time he undressed and dressed? When he washed? Did his master allow others to watch him too? Sam's head rose as he looked up at the ceiling. Oh God...

He squeezed his eyes closed and tried not to think about it, about his shame, tried to fight back the desire to curl up in a ball and die. In the end, Sam's legs buckled and he wound up sitting on the floor beside the bed, his face turned into it as he cried silently into the bedding.

*

When five minutes turned to ten and still Sam had not appeared in the tavern where the rest were eating eggs, cheese and bread, Dean got up. Taking some bread and cheese, he stormed back up the stairs, and pushed the door open. "What is keeping you?"

Seeing Sam on the floor, he set the food down and went to him, lifting him up and raising up to the bed. "What has happened? What?" He asked, knowing no one had come into the room. "Samuel?" He cupped the boy's chin and lifted his face. "Answer me."

Sam sniffled, having cried himself out a few minutes earlier, but having been too embarrassed to dress and go down stairs. Sam looked down, avoiding his master's gaze, his bottom lip quivering before he managed to make it stop as he bit his lip. "Nothing." he answered softly.

"Answer me," Dean repeated, brooking no rebellion. "You are to come to me with your problems, I will solve every one of them. Tell me." He dragged his gaze from Sam's quivering lips before he was tempted to dip his head down and steal a kiss.

Sam huffed as he raised a hand to wipe at his eyes with the back of a hand, still refusing to look up at his master. _Even when that problem is you?... What you did?_

"I - I never knew," Sam shook his head slowly, staring off, unblinking, unseeing. He gave a harsh laugh, "But then, why would we think it a possibility? We trusted the monks completely, thought of them as family." His voice dipped lower, softer, haunted. "What kind of family lets men watch you dress and undress without your knowledge?" again a harsh laugh worked out of him. "What else did you watch me do? Bathe? How about relieve myself? Did you watch that? And when I was sweaty from working and had to go and change during mid day? Were you hiding inside the monastery? Waiting for the right moment?" he huffed and shook his head. "A thousand baths in the pool at the monastery would not make me feel clean now." 

Sam's eyes suddenly widened, his eyes darting up to look at Dean's face, mouth open in shock, "You - you were there! That day! That was why!..." his hand rose to cover his mouth as he scooted away from Dean. Pulling his hand away from his mouth to brace against the bed, Sam looked at him with wide eyes that were starting to fill with tears again, "Oh my God..."

Dean tried to understand, he really did. "Once, maybe twice a year I came to see how you were. I saw you scrape your knee. Watched you grow. And when you were older, I watched you bathe. I made sure you were alright, I paid for your keep, I waited until you turned eighteen, yes... that was as it should be. Now enough of this... these tears. You belong to me, know this. Nothing that happens between us is _wrong_."

As Sam listed to Dean a coldness settled in the pit of his stomach. Any hope, any thought that he could, would be friends with his master, care for his master, maybe even one day love his master, gone out the window with those words. _'You belong to me, know this.'_

Yes, Sam knew that now. Bought and paid for, like a parcel. Like he had felt like the day before when he had been handed over on horseback to the other man. Sam clenched his jaw as he gave a curt nod, tearing his gaze away from his master's. "I understand, master, I am, sorry." Sam told him, before sliding off the bed, letting the linens fall as he did. 

Embarrassment burned Sam's cheeks, but he refused to let it show as he reached for his new clothes, his back to Dean and began to dress with not another word. Bought and paid for, a belonging, right. Sam would remember his place from now on. "I did not mean to interrupt you breaking your fast, master." Sam told him softly as he dressed, "forgive me."

He wasn't a stupid man. Dean realized Sam had reverted to calling him master not because he had been taught to, but it was either sarcasm or rebellion. "Do not call me that again. I told you, it is Dean or my Lord or your Lordship. Samuel." He waited for his innocent to look at him. "I never claimed to be a saint. The reason I _need_ you is quite the opposite. You are the light... I am the dark." 

_I never asked for a saint. Had just hoped to not be looked at as a belonging._ Sam pulled the tunic over his head and sighed, as he nodded, "Yes," he pressed his lips together. Dean was too personal, it showed feeling, a relationship, caring. My lord, no, he would not call him that either, though he called other knights that he decided this one was not worthy of the same title as his savior. "Your Lordship." 

Dean's mouth tightened as Sam chose to address him the way most servants would. He gave him a curt nod, and once he was dressed, allowed the servants to come in to gather the rest of his belongings. Seeing the stubborn angle of Sam's chin, he pointed at the food he'd brought. "That's for you. Come down as soon as you are done." Striding out of the room, he didn't look back. Maybe he should have listened to Peter and the others. Taken him, made him his, and finished this. His kindness certainly had not been appreciated.

Sam glanced over at the platter of food and nodded. He wasn't hungry, not anymore. When he had awoken, he had been staved, now he didn't care if he ever ate again.

Finishing with his new clothes and figuring out the last few fastenings himself, something he would have asked D -- his lordship to do, had he been, well, had Sam still wanted anything to do with him other than getting over with what he had to get over with. Grabbing a handful of grapes from the tray and some of the morning bread, Sam turned and started out the door and down the steps.

Outside, Dean spoke with the other men who'd gathered, some mounted and others still making preparations. One of them reported that there was word of a contingency of knights having left Haverosham Castle. It could mean nothing, or it could mean yet another who wanted to destroy him would try to take his innocent. "Then we ride faster so they will have ridden for nothing," he said decisively.

All eyes turned back to the inn as Sam walked out. Dean motioned for him to come, and then helped him onto his horse.

Feeling the stares, Sam wondered which ones his lordship had brought with him to ogle at him through holes in the wall at the monastery. Which ones knew him top to bottom? Did they all? Sam hung his head as he shoved the last of his grapes into his mouth. Once on the animals back, Sam reached down to pet the beasts neck. "I used to care for animals like you back home," he whispered to the beast, planting a rather loud kiss on the side of her neck before rising back to sit up straight once again, his eyes meeting Dean's a dare in them for his master to say one thing to him about kissing the animal, just one and he was going to let him have it, consequences be damned.

Dean pressed his lips together in order to prevent laughter from bubbling up, but his eyes... his eyes were filled with merriment, as he mounted behind Sam, pulled on the reins and they left the inn behind them. "I used to be a little boy once, too." One small motion, and he had their horse racing now, the wind taking their breaths away.

"Really? You weren't --" Sam's sentence was left hanging, unable to finish the sarcastic comeback of asking if he hadn't been hatched that age, as the horse raced, the wind nearly knocked out of his lungs. _Jerk._

* * *

It was well past midday when they left the road, seeking the shelter of the woods, to rest the horses. Like the others, Dean dismounted, then put his arms up to Sam's waist to help him down. 

Sam frowned slightly, not wanting to have to have Dean help him do anything, but his inner thighs and ass were so sore, he wasn't so sure he could have gotten off the horse on his own unless he just let himself fall off and that definitely would not have been a good idea.

Reaching down toward Dean, Sam let him help him off the house, his hands fisting the material of Dean's tunic, before Dean released him and Sam started to stumble forward, his legs all but wanting to collapse out from under him. Eyes wide, lips parted, he looked at Dean for help as he started to fall, and thankfully in a blink, Dean was there catching him.

Sam was surprised at his body's lack of ability to handle something he had thought he would have had no problem with, it was just riding on a horse after all. "Thank - thank you, De -" Sam swallowed and looked down, nearly forgetting himself, his place, "your Lordship."

Dean tried not to bristle at the fact his innocent was still holding a grudge. "Shake your legs out," he said, an arm around Sam's waist. "You're just not used to having them in that position. I'll teach you to ride on your own when we're home."

Some of the others started to walk away. Dean turned to Sam, "I'm sure you need to relieve yourself. Walk with me." When he saw that Sam had found his land legs, he released him, though reluctantly. "Your stomach was shouting for food." His hand had been on Sam's stomach for much of the ride, and he wasn't surprised because his innocent has probably ignored his instruction to eat breakfast. 

Sam hung his head in embarrassment as he followed after Dean. "I didn't eat much this morn, didn't want to keep you waiting," he mumbled softly. He would have added that he was a good eater and more than once had been told by the monks that he alone could eat them out of house and home, but he didn't. After all, what does one care how their possession eats? 

When Dean stopped, Sam frowned and licked his lips looking around, "Here?" You want me to relieve myself here? With you standing there?" Sam asked him, shifting his weight nervously from one foot to the other as he bit his lip.

"Preferably," Dean grinned, "but you may give me your back if you want." Having no qualms himself, he started to open up his own breeches. "There is no reason to be shy with me. Out here, people piss and discuss the sale of livestock at the same time," he pointed out. "You'll get used to it."

Sam swallowed, making a slight face. He doubted he would _ever_ 'get use to it', but he didn't argue. With a deep sigh, knowing that he likely had no choice in the matter, Sam turned his back to Dean and started unfastening his breeches, frowning and fumbling with the fastenings a few moments before he finally got them open. His robes and brais alone were much easier to deal with then these clothes that Dean had given him, though he had to admit that they were quite nice, even if he had to fight to get out of them.

Finishing with his business, Sam quickly laced up his brais and started fastening the breeches once again, muttering under his breath about how one needed three hands to work them, though he refused to ask for help. Refused to let Dean know he was having any problem, refused to say anything.

Dean waited, watching Sam struggle. Watching and waiting for him to ask for assistance or say something. His patience at an end, he walked over, in front of Sam and pushing his hands away, laced his breeches up. Pulling his tunic down, he started to re-knot the belt so it sat right. "How long should I expect your silence to go on?"

Sam looked at Dean, jaw clenched for a moment before answering, "Does it matter? After all, my silence makes me no less pure, that _is_ after all, all you _need_ me for," Sam said, before tearing his gaze away and looking down. "Thank you, your Lordship."

"I see. So I am back to being an 'ogre.' Someone who doesn't care about your feelings or want your company." He shook his head. "I will let this pass because you know no better. You haven't seen enough. But you _are_ wrong." He nodded toward the path back to the others, and then followed Sam as he walked. What did this innocent want of him? Dean had no clue. There was no time to talk things through, but when they got home...

Sam frowned as he walked. His master made no sense. _He_ was the one who had pushed his feelings aside. He was the one who had not cared how much what he had done, what the monks had allowed him to do had hurt him, had made him feel dirty and ashamed. And _he_ was the one who had made him sound like a possession, a _thing_ , a belonging, not a person. Not someone to care about, who could, would care for him, if he let him. It was _he_ , not Sam, and yet now he claimed that those words were never spoken, that Sam was just making this up on his own? He raised a hand to his brow rubbing it as he walked, unable to understand this.

They reached the others and Sam turned, his eyes intent on Dean's face, and answered in a whisper, "when," he licked his lips and sighed, shaking his head, "I do not _want_ to see you as an ogre."

Dean didn't flinch away from his innocent's words. He'd had much worse directed to him. He was a bit saddened that Sam believed all those things about him but maybe time would change that. There were many knights who relegated their innocents to the background, using them for one purpose only, but Dean had hoped for more. A life companion like his father before him had found. He motioned for food to be brought over.

"Sit. Have something to eat," he said, letting himself down onto the trunk of a tree that was bent to the ground. He held a wooden bowl out, then whispered softly, "do not make me lose face in front of my men. Wage your battle with me when we are alone."

Sam frowned as he reached for the food offered him. He was not trying to fight, to argue. He was trying to say that he had hoped for more. Did his knight not understand that? With a sigh, Sam merely nodded. "Yes, your Lordship," he muttered softly, taking a bite of bread.

Dean gritted his teeth. If he heard 'Lordship' one more time... He was more than glad that Peter joined them.

"How do you like all this adventuring? You should get your fill of it before Lord Winchester," he slapped Dean's back. "Locks you up behind new walls."

"Peter, let him eat."

Sam looked up at Peter, lips parted before he looked over at Dean. _Locks me up behind new walls?_ Sam pressed his lips together as he looked back down at his bread and nodded. "The adventure is more than one such as myself could ever hope for, my Lord." Sam answered softly.

Dean dropped his bread and stood up. Peter merited a 'my Lord' and yet he... Striding over to the group of men eating closer to the horses, he started talking to them about the remainder of the trip. He also instructed that once they arrived at their next destination, two should ride ahead to the castle and bring back a contingency of another ten knights. He had a feeling... and it wasn't going away. 

Peter dipped his bread into the mushy mixture at the bottom of the bowl, and scooped it up. "I've know Dean a long time. Since he was this high," he said, slicing his hand though the air at about the height of his knees. "His father was like a brother to me, may God rest his soul." He took a deep breath. "He's a good man. Except for his jests." 

Sam nodded as he ate, his head bowed. Slowly looking up at Peter, Sam licked his lips. "Has, his Lordship ever been in love?"

"Dean?" He snorted, then looked at Sam and shook his head 'no'. "As far as I know he made it a rule never to bed the same wench twice. He was waiting for you." His gaze slipped to the knight in question, then back to Sam. "You did not hear any of that from me."

Sam smiled slightly before he looked back down, nodding. "No, my lord, I heard nothing from you," he looked back up at Peter, a smile still lingering on his face."Thank you," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "for telling me."

"You should ask him. His bark is louder than his bite." 

Returning, Dean frowned. "Peter, I told you to let him eat. Sam?" He nodded at the still uneaten food in his bowl. "We have another half day's ride." 

 

Sam smiled up at him, "Sorry, your, uh," Sam cleared his throat, "Dean." He mumbled out before looking down and quickly starting to scarf down his food. 

 

Dean's gaze went between the two men. "Should I ask what I missed?" What he didn't miss was Sam's slip up, calling him by his name. Unless... Well, maybe he'd changed his mind, maybe not. Dean had never been good at knowing how to deal with prickly women, how was he to know his innocent would be prickly?

 

"Nothing. I was merely telling Samuel of your exploits. The time that you fought and struggled for a day and a night, hefting your sword, refusing to give up..."

 

As Peter went on, Dean started to smile, his chest puffing out.

 

Sam had stopped shoveling food into his mouth and was now only slowly chewing as he listened to Peter tell his tale.

 

"... when all other good men would have given up the quest... until you finally struck your death blow... killing that large, giant of a _moth_ that was attacking Lady Hampton's hair... do you remember?"

 

Sam's eyes widened a mere millisecond before he burst out laughing, one hand at his stomach, he nearly fell over backward off the log, tears in his eyes as he laughed. "A moth!!!" Sam laughed more, "You fought a moth!!!" he continued laughing, gasping for breath.

 

"You're both ridiculous." Despite his sharp words, Dean was laughing with them. He didn't think he'd ever heard his innocent laugh. He was a touch jealous that Peter was the one who'd earned it.

 

"And YOU, my friend, have no sense of humor, when it is you who is the butt of the joke." Giving him a knowing look, Peter walked away, re-wording a few lines of a ballad to make it about Lord Winchester who gave his blood to save all England from a murderous beast of a moth."

 

"Don't listen to him, he is drunk. Has anyone offered you water?" Seeing that no one had, he started to bellow until one of the men rushed over with a skin of water. 

 

Sam's laughter slowly died away as he took the water, a snicker or two working out of him before he finally was able to control it. "Mmm, that was great" Sam told him, smiling, "I like him," he jutted his head toward Peter, "he's funny." He looked down again, biting his lip and feeling self conscious. "Um, thank you, for the water," Sam mumbled out again, quietly finishing the last of his food, washing it down with the water. Licking his lips Sam looked up at Dean, "What _did_ you fight, really?" Sam asked him softly, he shook his head, "the monks would never really tell us, just that it was horrible things, evil things." Sam frowned, before a smile split his face, "Somehow I don't think they were talking about giant moths."

"You're very handsome when you smile. I wish you would, more often." He meant _smile for me_ , and not because of others. "We'll talk about what I fight another time." It wasn't a five minute conversation, and that was all they had.

Sam sighed. Again, he didn't want to talk to him. Oh, right, it didn't involve the reason he had been paid for and picked out long ago. He nodded, "alright," Sam shrugged a shoulder before finishing with his food and pulling to his feet. "May I go talk with Peter more?" Sam smiled slightly, "he makes me laugh."

"Mind his warts," he waved him off. Not happy, but he trusted his friend, and he could imagine that Sam felt lonely. He was unsure why Sam felt uneasy in his company, but he hoped time would change it. "There's not much time, and you're riding with me." He added the last, to make sure there was no question of Sam's rightful place.

 

Sam turned and started to run smiling wide, then did a stammer step as he looked back at Dean and nodded, before turning and running off. "Peter, my lord, wait!" Sam called as he ran after him.

"Join us lad. Perhaps you want to hear about the time Lord Winchester single-handedly vanquished a one hundred limbed worm?"

Shaking his head at the roars of laughter, Dean went to his horse, checking his weapons, and then talking to Charles. They spoke of the possibility of attacks, and strategies Dean wished to employ.

"You should bed him. Right now, before we leave. If someone gets to him first..."

"Enough. We ride," Deans said loud enough for the others to hear the order and start for their horses.

"You know I'm right, if anything happens, you might have to select a new one... and you might not last until he or she is ready," Charles dared to point out, even as Dean helped Sam back onto the horse's back. 

"Charles, take the rear." That was the only sign of displeasure Dean gave as he mounted behind Sam, and held him close. Leaning forward, he asked near his ear. "Are you ready?"

Sam smiled as he nodded. "Will you save me from monstrous mosquitoes?" he asked as he tilted his head back slightly to look at Dean over his shoulder, a wide grin plastered across his lips as he snickered. Sam cleared his throat and his smile fell away as he sat straight again, "Sorry, my lord," he mumbled, hanging his head, though he sneaked a grin at Peter as he rode up to them.

"Hmmm, I'm going to show you my pet hungry mosquito tonight. _Mosquito_..." he muttered, his body coming into close contact with Sam's with each rolling step forward. "Next you will have me fighting ants and lice." 

Sam pressed his lips together tightly, trying to stifle his laughter at the image that flashed in his head. "Dragonflies would be more fearsome, my lord." Sam told him, a snickered breath leaving him before he covered it with a cough.

 _My Lord._ Surely a little thing like that should not cause him to feel so elated. Dean wore a grin, and increased their pace. They had to get to shelter before nightfall.


	4. Chapter 4

The gates were opened before they arrived so their horses never broke their galloping pace, Dean reined his horse in, holding Sam tight as it reared slightly. They drew up to the main entrance of the keep, and dismounted. Servants swarmed them, taking their horses and relieving them of their loads. The lesser knights headed off to find their own quarters, while Charles, Peter, Dean and Sam walked up the stairs and entered into the large parlor.

A broad shouldered man walked out with two women, one older and quite curvaceous, and the other young and bright eyed. Even before introductions began, the young woman threw her arms around Dean. "My Lord, it is so nice to see you again."

Sam looked over at the woman who had thrown herself at his master and frowned. One of those wenches Peter spoke of no doubt. Dragging his gaze away, Sam hung his head, looking at his shoes.

"You too Kate," he grinned, and once she released him, he put his hand behind Sam and gave him a slight push. "This is Sam."

As soon as Dean's hand was at his back, Sam picked his head up, looking over at him, then at the bright eyed woman who was all smiles. She reminded him of Christiana when she had done something particularly naughty.

While Kate was busy throwing her arms around Sam in turn, the others greeted each other. 

Her arms were around him? Sam's eyes widened, "Aaak!" He nearly shoved her away, looking at her as though she were crazy. Looking over at Dean, Sam shook his head, "I didn't do anything! _She_ touched _me_!" he started to defend himself.

"Sam... it's alright." Putting his arm around his innocent, he nodded toward Kate. "This is Sir Harry's innocent, Kate. Sir Harry... and his wife, Lady Elizabeth." 

Sam looked from Dean to the woman before him, she was... like him? But... Sam looked at Sir Harry, then to his wife, then back to Kate. He's married. He doesn't... Kate isn't his love? He just.... _'I paid for your keep, I waited until you turned eighteen, yes... that was as it should be. You belong to me, know this.'_ Sam hung his head, any bit of happiness he had felt, and relief found in Peter's earlier words, gone. Property, bought and paid for. The light to his dark. That was all, nothing more.

The two women gave curtsies and Sir Harry nodded, looking him over. "You are at peace, at last?" he asked Dean, but it was more a statement.

Sam didn't look up, didn't even look to Dean to see what he said, his thoughts were as much in knots as his stomach and his chest was aching.

Dean didn't answer, but accepted Kate's offer to show them to their room and have baths drawn for them to wash the travel dust off. Arm still firmly around Sam, he started to follow, giving Sam a glance, shaking his head, then letting him go first up the narrow stone stair case behind Kate. "So, is there any excitement of which I should be aware?"

"Elizabeth is with child."

"Is she, good." They stepped into a hallway and she opened the door to a large room. "Do you want me to wash you?" She asked.

"No, just the water."

"Him?"

Dean shook his head again.

"Sam, I will try to be seated next to you at dinner. I'm very happy to meet you. Maybe we can visit... you'll only be a half day's ride from here."

Sam glanced up at her from under his brows and his long bangs and gave a small smile, nodding. "That would be nice, I had a friend at the monastery," Sam's smile widened a bit, "you remind me of her." He glanced at Dean, worrying his lip, not sure if he was allowed to be that friendly with someone else. 

When she walked out and closed the door, Sam remained standing in the same place, simply looking down at his shoes and worrying his lip, his hands clasped behind his back.

Dean closed his arms around Sam, and dragged him up against his frame, but not ungently. "I'm coming to know that look. How have I wronged you now, hmm?" Why weren't things as simple as they could... should be? He just wanted to kiss Sam, maybe enjoy a bit of play as they bathed, sup with his friends, and then it would be time for some bedsport. Somehow, he knew his plans would go awry.

Sam shook his head, "You - you didn't, I just," he sighed, "I guess I had a different view of the world," he huffed. "I guess that's why Christiana always called me a dreamer," he forced a smile and looked into Dean's face.

He nodded and put one hand on the side of Sam's face. "It's complicated, but you'll learn. There's good and bad. For one thing... I don't mind if other people touch you, alright? Within reason," he added, a hint of steel in his voice. "There's nothing wrong with showing affection for friends, receiving or giving hugs. Just don't go batting those eyelashes at anyone but me, though." His gaze dropped to Sam's lips, then lifted heavily back up.

Sam nodded, then frowned slightly, "I - you don't mind if I touch someone else?" he tilted his head slightly, "Then why...?" Sam sighed, something else he didn't understand about the monks he had called family. He noticed Dean's gaze go to his lips before raising back to his own. Self consciously, he licked his lips. "Y - you're going to give me a lip complex," he tried to joke, but knew it likely fell flat.

"Am I? Maybe I just want to check your teeth... hmm?" Closing the gap between them, Dean covered Sam's mouth with his, he swept his tongue past his innocent's teeth and started a long, slow exploration of the silky hot cavern. He'd craved Sam's touch all day long, refrained from teasing him or touching him because he'd been worried about his ability to control himself. That and the fact his prickly innocent had been on the outs with him. Pulling back, he gave his verdict. "They're perfect. No gaps. Would you like to check mine?" This time his hands slipped down to Sam's ass, and pulled him up harder against his frame. 

Sam's lashes fluttered before his eyes opened, though his lids were feeling slightly heavy as he stood gazing at his knight. _No gaps...?_ Sam would have huffed had he not felt like he was nearly drugged, or was it sleepy? After all, he had perfect teeth, everyone said so. Instead, he smiled a slightly lop-sided grin at his knight, then his eyes widened as he was brought up hard against Dean, though he didn't protest. 

A devious smile pulled at Sam's lips as he looked at his knight, "Oh, I dunno," he tilted his head to the side, "they looked okay to me before, I'd say they're alright." Sam pressed his lips together to keep from laughing.

Dean gave a low, playful growl. "You don't know that, maybe you should check. I might have knocked one or three out, you know, when I was battling that fearsome cricket." Leaning in, he spoke against Sam's lips, "You batted your lashes at me, means you want to kiss me. You do, don't you?"

Sam snickered, "Cricket...." he raised a hand to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, then pulled it down. "At least it wasn't a grasshopper, my lord, those things spit, then you would have been doomed!" Sam laughed, actually threw his head back and laughed at that for a good while before what Dean said registered. "I batted my...?" Sam frowned, "I have never batted my lashes at anyone."

"You just did it again," Dean countered. "Right there... you're batting. Kiss me Sam, like early this morning. Kiss me, please."

Sam shook his head, "I am not -" his sentence died away as he looked at Dean. Slowly he reached up, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders, his eyes following the movement as he bit his lip, then his gaze slid to Dean's as if to check that he was doing alright. Sam licked his lips and leaned in, slanting his mouth and parting his lips, his eyes fluttering closed.

At first Sam just pressed his lips to Dean's and held there, before he remembered that before he had sucked Dean's tongue, had rolled his tongue with Dean's. Tentatively, Sam let his tongue push past his master's teeth and into his mouth, sliding it along side Dean's, then pulling back slightly as he ran his tongue over the backs of Dean's teeth, the roof of his mouth, dodging Dean's tongue more than anything, but he thought he was getting something right by the sounds that broke from his master's throat.

Molding him closer, Dean groaned. So soft, so sweet... he had to keep his control, allow his innocent to go slow, he had to fight the urge to deepen the kiss. "Good, that's good Sam," he muttered, tangling his tongue with Sam's, drawing out the kisses, moving his mouth back and forth. His hand slipped to Sam's belt, he started to undo it, mouth never unlatching from Sam's.

Sam swept his tongue along side Dean's, tangling them together and pulling back until he had enough of Dean's tongue in his mouth that he started to suck on it the way he had done that morning in the bed, his hands fisting in the material of Dean's tunic. Feeling Dean's hand at his belt, Sam shifted his weight, a small whimper sounding deep in his throat, a gesture of uncertainty, but he knew what his role was, his job, he couldn't ask his master to wait forever, so Sam held still and tried to focus on the kiss, on his master's mouth, his tongue, the sounds of pleasure that broke from his throat.

His breaths coming harsher, Dean moved his mouth across Sam's jaw, then pressed kisses along the tender flesh of his throat. The belt slipped from his fingers to the floor, and he found the bottom of Sam's tunic. Stepping back, he pulled the material up, peeling it off Sam. Seeing him in just the silk under tunic, which had a gaping neckline, all Dean could think about was pushing him on the bed and taking him. He licked his lips, battling his desires. It helped that his innocent had a nervous look in his eyes. "We're just going to bathe. A little kissing, a little touching and a bath... I promise you that," he said, knowing his innocent had no idea the toll that waiting took on him.

Sam swallowed hard and nodded, jaw clenched. Sam's lips parted as he released the breath he had been unconsciously holding, licked his lips and looked nervously around the room. "Where - where's the tub?"

"Adjoining room." Dean started to walk him backward toward the door, this time his hands working the ties on Sam's breeches. 

Sam glanced back over his shoulder behind him, then looked back at Dean he walked backward. "Oh," he gave a small nod, "yeah, right." he had to get used to the idea that not every one bathed in small tubs in their rooms behind closed doors so no one could see them. That thought had Sam closing his eyes for a moment as he battled his embarrassment. Yeah, so no one could _supposedly_ see them. 

Feeling the breeches he wore get looser, Sam's eyes snapped open as he looked down at his pants, at Dean's hands unfastening them, then up at Dean's face as a hand automatically raised to his waistband to hold the pants in place. "So who," Sam swallowed, "who's going first?" 

"Shshsh, don't worry so much. Trust me." That was when Dean started praying, praying that he wouldn't break any trust that Sam placed in him. "You don't need this," he said, prying the material out of Sam's fingers. They were through the door, and next to a large tub with steaming water set in the middle of the small antechamber.

Sam continued to worry his lip, but nodded at Dean's request to trust him. Yeah, he could do that, he hadn't done anything horrible to him, well, when he had started to, he had stopped and that had to mean something. When the material of his breeches was tugged out of his grip, Sam looked down at them, then up at Dean, taking in a deep shuddering breath.

Seeing the the large tub, visions of the other innocents being taken to the bathing rooms in the monastery flashed before Sam's eyes, the sounds of them crying, of the other boys begging the knights not to do _it_ , filled his ears. Sam wasn't even sure what _it_ was, but from the sound of _it_ , he was going to hate _it_. But, his master had promised that they were only going to bathe..... and kiss.... touch.... Sam blew out a breath as he watched Dean pull his breeches down, wanting to instinctively to cover himself, but knowing that he shouldn't. Sam did the only thing he could do, and looked away.

Feeling Dean touch his leg, Sam dared a glace down at him, then moved to step out of his breeches, standing a couple steps away from Dean now, head hanging, hands clenched into fists at his sides, Sam waited for whatever came next as he worried his lip.

"You're this shy?" Letting out a hot breath, Dean moved under the white tunic again, this time undoing the stays of Sam's brais and inching them down his body, his fingers brushing the smooth skin of his hips and thighs. "Promise to lay on me, and kiss me in the tub, and I will let you keep the tunic on," he said thickly. In all honesty, the tunic was for his own benefit, to help him find some control.

Sam raised his head and looked at Dean, lip caught between straight white teeth. Yeah, he could do that, they had done that in the bed and it had be alright... nice even. Sam nodded, "I will."

"Alright." Dean shoved the undergarment down and helped Sam step out of it. "You may get in the water." Nodding toward it, he started to strip his own clothes off. There were many who might say that he should have let his innocent undress him, should have bathed first and then allowed his innocent to use the same water, but he'd never held to convention. 

Sam opened his mouth to ask if he was supposed to undress Dean now, but his master's next words clarified that for him. With a sigh of near relief, Sam nodded and turned toward the bath. Walking over to the tub, Sam climbed the two little steps and slowly started to get in, sighing as the warm water covered his body. He leaned back against the wall of the tub, closing his eyes a moment before a mischievous smirk pulled at his lips and he dunked down under the water, only to come up a few seconds later, wiping water and hair from his eyes with his hands, then bending backward to dip his head into the water once more.

Even partially clothed, his innocent was going to be his undoing. Dean's gaze was transfixed on him, the combination of memories of the boy naked and swimming in that larger bathing pool combining with the current vision of Sam with his thin white thigh length under tunic sticking to his body and hiding nothing, sending a surge of blood straight to Dean's cock. His breeches fell to the floor, and he tossed his remaining clothes aside. Walking outside the tub behind Samuel, he put his hands on the boy's shoulders, drawing him back to the edge of the tub so his head hung outside the rim and against Dean's bare stomach. Hot water spilled down his Lordship's body, as he stared down at Sam, naked desire in his face. 

When Dean's hands went to Sam's shoulders, Sam opened his eyes, his smile slowly fading away at the look on his knight's face. He had begun to understand that look, to know what it meant, and although it wasn't horrible to know that his knight _needed_ him, it was no less unnerving and scary for someone who had no clue about such things other than the horrific sounds that had echoed through monastery walls.

Leaning down, Dean slanted his mouth over his innocent's wet hot lips, upside down, sucking his lips into his mouth before pushing his tongue inside. Fuck... if he was this affected when he was outside the tub, what was he to do when he was in it and had Sam sliding against him?

Sam gasped in a breath, opening his mouth up to his knight, his hand rising out of the water to grab backward onto Dean's shoulder as he kissed him, Sam doing his best to return in kind as they had _practiced_. When the knight broke the kiss, Sam licked his lips and stared up into Dean's brilliant green eyes. "I like the water - I," Sam cleared his throat, "I guess you know that." He gave a small forced smile that didn't reach his eyes before he bit his lip, still holding onto Dean's shoulder.

"I like you in water." Dean's smile was equally forced since he was fighting a host of desires. "I guess you know that."

Sam gave a small huff, somewhere between a laugh and an exhale of breath, but didn't say anything.

Bending, he kissed Sam one more time, then pulled up and started to walk around the tub to get inside. As he climbed the small set of steps, his innocent could not miss his state of arousal. "Don't be afraid, but don't fight me," he reminded him, slowly entering the tub.

Sam had decided that he actually liked kissing his knight, it was fun and it made his heart flutter, but not in a bad way. Dean also always seemed to taste good, it wasn't something he ate or drank, but his own unique flavor and Sam found that he liked it very much. Right now, he couldn't help the fact his gaze  
was drawn to his knight's erection before he quickly looked away, his cheeks stained. At his master's words, Sam looked back at his face and gave a small nod, swallowing and licking his lips nervously. "Mm, o - okay." 

Sam didn't move from the edge of the bath, one hand clinging to the side in a tight grip as he watched Dean enter the water. Once again, Sam's lip found it's way between his teeth as his heart thundered in his chest. He shifted his weight a few times, uncertain what to do, what he should do, what was expected of him _to_ do. 

As Dean came closer, Sam gave a small nervous smile, "I - I think along with all the other things they taught me, _this_ would have been helpful," he choked out softly.

"No. This is for _me_ and only me, to teach you," Dean countered, lowering down into the warm water, facing Sam. For a long moment, he watched him. His flushed face, lips reddened by his nervous habit, and the attempt to smile when Dean knew he probably wanted to bolt from the room. "Come closer, I don't bite, Samuel." Dean scooted forward, one foot flat on the bottom of the tub between Sam's legs, allowing him to get close as he reached out and rubbed his calloused hand up and down Sam's shoulder, using the other one to explore the angular planes of his face. "Unless you want me to bite," he gave a mischief filled smile. "Then you only have to ask."

Sam gave a small nervous laugh before his lip found home again between his teeth as he gazed at Dean's face. Slowly Sam raised a hand to Dean's shoulder, then slid the hand up to cup Dean's neck and finally his cheek, thumb running over his cheek bone. "You - you have a nice nose, small. Chris - Christiana said I had a nose like our basset hound, at - at the monastery, flat and wide, yours is nice and small." Sam's free hand rose to his own face, running over the tip of his nose.

"You like my nose... I see," he laughed in amusement. "Keep in mind, nothing else about me is _small._ " He turned his head, so Sam cupped his face, then let him explore. Despite his apparent state of relaxation, Dean was anything but relaxed. "I don't think you look like a hound at all... this Christiana must be half blind. Angel... you have the face of an angel," he cleared his throat, his lips quirking up, "but I fear not the temperament of one."

Sam giggled slightly and shook his head, "An angel? Not if you spoke to the monks. I think they thought I was spawned from Lucifer himself." he chuckled, "though it was Christiana's fault, truely. I was led astray," he said, a smirk pulling at his lips. " _She_ was my downfall."

"I have a feeling you'll be my downfall," he said, tugging Sam a little closer. Leaning in, he kissed the shell of Sam's ear, tonguing it a few times. "Let me touch you... everywhere, I want to learn your body. I want to know what makes you ache between your legs, what makes you ache for me. I need to know what makes you call my name, let me." His hand slid down Sam's chest, fingers exploring the grooves of his well defined muscles, his thumb rubbing over his nipple... teasing.

Sam's hands went to Dean's shoulder's as he leaned in, eyes closing as Dean dipped his hot tongue in his ear, a small whimper leaving him at Dean's words as he bit his lip harder, nodding his head slightly, "O-okay," Sam agreed, though he tensed, unsure what to expect, but waiting for something horrible, something that would give him cause to shout like the calls for help he'd heard echoing through monastery walls. His breath left him in a rush at the feel of Dean touching his chest, his nipple. Sam felt it harden, felt heat pool in his groin. "D- Dean," his hands clasped Dean's shoulders tighter as Sam bit his lip, brows furrowed, eyes squeezed tightly closed.

"Yes? You like it." He knew Sam did, so he pressed on, touching him over the wet shirt, moving down to his belly, then under the material. This time he explored every inch of Sam's flesh more slowly, thoroughly, moving back to his nipple. His heart seemed to constrict at his innocent's responses, the intakes of his breath. Swooping down, Dean pulled the tunic to one side, and latched his mouth over one flat male nipple and sucked, then teased with his tongue. Perfect... so perfect for him. "How does it feel?" he asked, moving his leg, his shin pressing lightly against the flesh between Sam's legs.

Sam's breaths panted out, lips parted, eyes closed he was caught up in the feeling, the sensations that were running through his body, so much that he nearly didn't respond to his master's words. "Hmm?" Sam arched into Dean's touch, his cock swelling and pulsing between his legs. His hips moved toward Dean on their own, his body knowing what he needed more than he did. He moaned softly, grinding against Dean, "I feel....I -" Sam pressed his lips together, turning is head and burying it against Dean's neck. Warm breath against sensitive flesh. 

"Oh God yes... lay on me," Dean demanded, straightening his legs and dragging his innocent over him, his aching cock now brushing against Sam's. Because Sam was floating above him, there was hardly any friction between their bodies. He slipped his hand down Sam's back, to his ass, pressing him down, molding him closer as he ground his hips up. Bringing his mouth to Sam's ear, he suggested, "put your knees down, then you can... you can touch me ... better." A hard lift of his hips, and he showed him how they could be touching. 

A strangled cry left Sam lips before be moved his legs, placing his knees down as Dean had said and half sitting on him, "F-f-feeling funny again," Sam whisped out breathlessly as he arched against Dean, hands griping his shoulder hard, fingertips digging into the skin of Dean's shoulders. "Please," Sam begged softly, his hips arching against Dean as his head fell back lips parted, breaths panting out, eyes still closed.

"Help yourself Sam, fuck against me." His eyes were on Sam's face, watching his reaction to the vulgar word, drinking in the innocent hunger in his expression. "Just like you rutted in my mouth... move over me." And when his innocent did, a low groan left Dean's throat. He gripped Sam's hip, helping him grind down, biting his lip as his cock slid between Sam's ass cheeks... white hot heat lancing through him. Lifting his head, he licked Sam's lips, tracing their outline, urging him to let his tongue come out to play.

Sam's tongue darted out to lick his lips, tasting Dean there, a small sigh leaving him as he moved to place his lips over Dean's, breaths panting into Dean's mouth, as his hips ground down against him. "Are-are you sure this is okay?" Sam panted out breathlessly, his body straining against Dean's as he ground his pulsing cock against his master, feeling both light headed and an aching pleasure building within him at the same time. A small whimper broke from Sam's lips, air puffing out into Dean's mouth before Sam's tongue delved into his mouth, hands sliding toward Dean's back holding him tightly as Sam writhed against him.

Before he could answer, Dean found Sam's tongue inside his mouth. This time his Innocent's tongue-play was bolder, thrusting and parrying, dueling with his own. _Yes._ This is what he'd wanted, to awaken something within Sam, make him seek it out. Sweeping his hand down over Sam's ass under the tunic, he held him close... tight, making Sam work to create the friction between them. In the back of his mind, he knew his needs were growing stronger. That if he didn't keep control, his darker side would win its demands that he turn the boy over right here, right now... to take him against the side of the tub. Tortured thoughts drew a loud groan out of him. 

Sam's back arched as he pressed his groin against Dean's body, fought against his masters firm hold to keep the rhythm of his rutting going, his ass into Dean's hand, his cock against Dean's body, low moans sounding deep in Sam's throat as his tongue fought and tangled with his knight's. Sam's fingertips dug into his Lord's back as he held onto him, clinging to him as his anchor as sensations tumbled and twisted their way through his body, making his breaths come faster, his heart beats harder. When their lips separated, Sam hung his head slightly, his forehead against Dean's shoulder, lips parted as he panted out his breaths, hips bucking against his master as he rolled his forehead, Sam's lips at Dean's throat, moving though no words were spoken, just gasps of hot breath against his lord's sensitive skin.

Seeing flashes of white each time their bodies pushed against each other, Dean gripped the edge of the tub and sat up, knees bent, his innocent trapped between his thighs and chest. "Ride me harder, faster," he demanded, his free hand cupping Sam's head, guiding him closer so their mouths collided. When he pushed his tongue inside Sam's mouth, there was no question as to who was in control of the kiss this time. It was fierce, and hard, and he might be ravaging his innocent's mouth, but he was channeling his needs so that he wouldn't take other things, things Sam was not ready to give yet. "Yes... that's it," he growled as his balls started to tighten, his fingers digging into Sam as he urged him on.

Sam struggled to do as Dean told him, even as he was held tightly in Dean's arms. It made the range of his movements difficult, but not impossible, it did however keep the ache lingering in his hard cock and it seemed to, if anything, just make him harder, the ache in his cock sharpening as he was forced to go slow, work for each grinding movement, each thrust against Dean's body. Sam moaned and whimpered into Dean's mouth, small groans of frustration and pleasure breaking from his throat as he tried to get to that place that he'd been to before, when the ache had left, when his world had narrowed to just the heat in his veins, pooling low in his belly.

Sam clutched at Dean, nearly trying to crawl inside him as he ground his hips against his master, finally tearing his lips from Dean's, his mouth burning, feeling swollen and raw. "Oh God... D - Dean..." Sam sucked in a breath between his teeth as he clenched them, his eyes opened as he tilted his head back, unseeingly looking at the ceiling, his hips moving erratically against Dean's body. "Need...." Sam shook his head before he lowered it looking at Dean, face wrecked, pained, pleasured, looking nearly ready to cry. "I don't know!" Sam told him, just before throwing his head back, fingertips digging hard into Dean's back as Sam's balls drew up, his lips parting, "Dean!!!" He screamed his master's name as he screwed his eyes tightly closed and started to cum, hard and hot against Dean.

Both of his arms closed around Sam, he dragged him down on his cock, over and over, pressing his face into Sam's throat, listening to his cries... his shout, "yes," he shouted back, his teeth biting into Sam's shoulder as he released with an intensity he had never felt in his life. His innocent, only Sam could do this to him. "Yes, yes... I'm sorry," he licked where he'd left teeth mark, then found Sam's mouth, kissing him with the same fire as had been in his gut earlier, then slowly gentling, and sucking his mouth as he pulled back. "You... alright?" he asked, resting his forehead against Samuel's.

Sam took a deep shuddering breath, nodding as he pressed his lips together, nostrils flared as he panted his breaths, trying to calm himself.  
He turned his head slightly to look at his shoulder where Dean had bitten him, but was unable to see anything. A small smile pulled at his lips. "I think," he swallowed, "I think we _do_ need to wash now," he said with a breathy chuckle.

"Mmm," he agreed, still holding fast. "Samuel, are those the sounds you heard at the monastery. The sounds that scared you?" he asked, his nose rubbing against Sam's ear as he spoke. 

Sam frowned slightly before he shook his head, "N-no, I - I'm not twelve, I wouldn't have," Sam turned his head hanging it as he sighed and lifted a hand to run it through his hair before looking back at Dean. "No, the sounds I heard were crying and screaming and begging. They weren't," he bit his lip, blushing, "There was no pleasure in them, at all," he said, his jaw clenching as he raised his head slightly to a stubborn angle.

Yes he knew some knights were brutal in their love making, and some were so far on the edge by the time their innocents were ready for them that they might not be able to be gentle, but he had not thought it was so as often as Samuel had implied. "Well then, you're lucky you have me," he said, a cocky grin spreading over his face. "Let's get washed up, supper will be served soon."

Sam nodded as he eyed Dean. "Before," Sam said softly, "the one time," he cocked his head to the side, "you stopped," Sam nodded, and smiled softly, "Yeah, I am lucky to have you."

Dean ran his thumb over Sam's lips, "As am I." He smiled, "you can take your tunic off now. I won't ravish you." Standing up, he allowed his innocent to make his own decision as he began to scrub himself down, happy in his heart, happy in a way he had not been since childhood.

Sam smirked slightly as he stepped back, reaching for the hem of his tunic. Shaking his head, he pulled the material up and over his head, tossing it over the side of the tub. "Little late for those words, I think." Sam teased, a soft chuckle working out of him as he reached for a cake of soap.

"The way I see it, Sammy boy... you were the one doing the ravishing," Dean pointed at him, his gaze sliding down over his innocent's chest and abs. He forced his thoughts away from the bed sport that would take place later, or else he might forgo supper.

Sam's eyes widened as he blushed and hung his head, a smile tugging at his lips.

* * * 

They ate supper in the great hall. Dean sat next to Sir Harry, with Sam at his side, and Peter next to Sam. There were other guests, and it was a large household so several tables were lined up. The servants brought big platters of meat and potatoes and chicken. The wine and ale was poured freely, though Dean made sure Samuel had water mixed in his wine. Kate sat across from them, and between her and Peter, he was sure Sam was entertained while he spoke with the master of the keep. 

When the young ones and women left the table, Dean told Sam he could stay if he wanted but he'd probably have a better time with Kate than sitting around talking politics and about securing and holding lands. He caught Sam's hand as his innocent got up. "I know you sleep early, when you are tired, retire. Kate or a servant can show you the way if you've forgotten it."

Sam nodded, glancing at Kate and hiding his smile at her from force of habit as he looked back at Dean. "Alright, my lord," Sam told him before looking back at Kate. "Can we walk and talk?" he asked her.

"Certainly," giving him a knowing smile, she lead the way out of the dining hall and to one of the empty sitting rooms. "This is my favorite room," she said, twirling once. "It isn't dark like the others. I was allowed to choose the furnishings." Walking to the chair near the small stained glass window, she sat down. "It's different, isn't it? The world outside? I remember being terrified when I first left the convent."

Sam knew innocents were raised in many places, not just the monatery he came from. He nodded, lips pressed together tightly as he looked around the room. "And this is enough for you?" he asked her, gaze intent on her face.

"This? Oh no, I have the run of the keep. Whatever makes you say that?" She asked, getting comfortable on the chair. "I don't know how it was for you but I hated the convent I was in. It was..." She lifted her face. "Every day was the same as the last. It was tiresome."

A frown creasing his brow as he thought about the monastery and the few friends he had managed to make there. "No," Sam said, slowly raising his head, shaking it, "I don't mean the room, I mean," he sighed, looking back over his shoulder toward the entryway then back at Kate, "I mean being just Sir Harry's innocent. He - he doesn't love you, he's married to another. This is good enough for you?" he asked her, raising a hand ro rub his forehead as he started to pace the room.

"I thought, I mean, I had hoped that I would be the one that my master loved, that _I_ would be his mate," he looked over at her and licked his lips before shaking his head again. "Christiana always told me I was a dreamer, but I thought that was because I used to dream of _being_ a knight, not because I wanted to be _loved_."

"I like Elizabeth. She's kind to me," Kate nodded. "This place was in a bad state of repair. The marriage was arranged," she shrugged. "I've met other knights like them, with innocents. It's... it's always different. Has Lord Winchester said he'll take a wife?"

Sam shook his head as he paced over to a chair and flopped down in it. "No," he made a miserable face, "I haven't asked him," he licked his lips, staring off into nothingness, "maybe I don't want to know. I miss home. I miss the monestary, and I miss Christiana," he admitted softly. "I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't know what I'm doing period. They say we can't touch and yet now I am told that it's alright to hug friends? I was told we can't look at one another unless we are dressed head to toe and then I find out that Lord Winchester had come by and spied on me? When I was undressed!" Sam's gaze finally settled on Kate's face. "I think if I were a knight I would refuse to take an innocent. I'd let this _dark_ , whatever it is, consume me before I put another person through what we have been," he scoffed.

"The knights are brave men. Not all of them kind." There were several she might wish to the fires of hell. "They give up pieces of their soul to fight the darkness, to help the world. I think of... I think of us as doing the same, giving up pieces of our souls to rebuild theirs, so they can fight to rid the land of evil." She picked up her embroidery and played with the strings. "I like Lord Winchester. He can be rough but he is kind, and funny and very brave. Sir Peter said he killed a fearsome flea a sennight ago." 

Sam's frown slid into a smile, then a chuckle before becoming laughter. He nodded to her, "I have heard he hefted his sword and fought longer than other men would have in order to kill a grotesque moth that had been attacking a lady's hair once."

"We should write a ballad in his honor sometime, detailing all his feats!" She dropped her embroidery and rubbed her hands together. "He has a far better sense of humor than my Lord," she told him, her eyes lighting up with and idea. "Perhaps when they are off to battle you can visit, or I shall get permission to visit you." 

Sam nodded, sitting foreward in his chair, "I'd like that," he said smiling wide, "It would be nice to have someone to talk to, a friend." His gaze momentarily dropped to the floor when he paused, then looked back up at her, tilting his head to the side. "Kate, do you ..... Since your master has a wife, do you ever wish _you_ could find love too?" he shrugged a shoulder, rubbing his hands together nervously before him, "I just don't know what I will do if Lord Winchester takes a wife, I mean."

"I... he says he loves me. I don't know if I love him back the way it is written by the poets, but I like my life here far better than in the convent. I had eight brothers and sisters. My parents allowed me to be selected. I remember crying every night." Tears stung her eyes. "Now I know, I was the lucky one. Only two of my siblings still live and my father is dead." Waving her hand as if it would take away the past, she gave him a smile. "I should like to be your friend too."

Sam pulled from his chair and walked over to her, offering her his hand, "I've never done this part," he nodded at his hand, "not allowed to touch, so," he smiled slightly, "but I hear I am suppose to help a lady to her feet." He smiled, waiting as Kate gave him her hand. "Have you ever outrun three monks in robes with your best friend when you were caught smearing mud in one anothers' faces?" he quirked a brow as he pulled her to her feet. "Shall we try that now? A race?" he asked her, grinning mischieviously.

"Race!" she agreed, her hair bobbing as his hand clasped around hers and they started to run. They screamed as they ran, and heard Sir Peter's booming voice, "Dean, you'd best rush above stairs... I hear gnats that must be vanquished."

* * * 

Sam sat across from Kate as they both gulped down their second goblet of water, having run all over the keep for nearly half the night until both out of breath and near dying of thirst. "I think," Sam panted, fighting to catching his breath, his lips wet with the water they's been drinking down so quickly, "that you might just be faster than Christiana." He rolled his eyes, "I swear she was part humming bird," he gave a breathless chuckle, yawning afterward. "Sorry," he appologised,"I think it's past time for evening prayers, I must be up late tonight." Sam pulled to his feet. "I've had a grand time, Kate, thank you," he told her smiling wide, "Good night."

"Good night Sam." As he walked down the hall, she walked in the opposite direction to her quarters.

As soon as the hall was clear, a uniformed page ran after Sam. "Sire... his Lorship begs your presence. Sire!"

Sam stopped mid stride and turned around frowning. "He does? Lord Winchester wants to see me? Well, I was," Sam waved a hand toward the direction of their room, before frowning again, "where is he? Should I go somewhere else?"

"Follow me, out to the gardens." Without waiting for an answer, the page lead the way to a set of spiral stairs at the end of the hall. "Come quick, he said to make haste." 

Sam frowned harder, before starting to jog along behind the man. "Is he alright? Is something wrong?" Sam asked as they hurried from the hall.

He didn't answer, but reached the downstairs and pushed the servant's door open, "hurry." They all but ran across the courtyard, to where a few horses stayed hidden in the shadows. Before Sam could ask any more questions, two men grabbed him from behind, stuffed a thick rolled rag in his mouth, then put a gag over it before they hefted him over the back of the horse so he lay on his belly like a sack of potatoes. 

By the time he was hefted over the horse, Sam was screaming against the gag for Dean, though it certainly didn't sound like 'Dean'. The rough cloth in his mouth tasted like dirt and made him feel like emptying his stomach.

"Ha, ha!" Someone shouted at the horses, striking one of them. The horses started to run toward a small side entrance that should have been locked but had been kept open.

As the horses galloped, Sam kept trying to raise a hand to the gag, only to nearly fall off the horse on his head and he was forced to lower his arm down once more, distributing his weight in order to prevent himself from falling and being trampled by the beasts. 

The sounds of hoofs striking cobbled stone alerted the guards and there was a hue and cry. "Over there!" Shouts and the sound of metal clanging echoed as men armed themselves in the courtyard.

Turning his head, Sam tried to see if anyone was coming to save him, but dust and dirt flying up had him needing to keep his eyes squeezed closed. His heart hammered in his chest as the horse carried him farther and farther away from his master. _Dean! Please, Dean! What? Why? What's happening?_ He started to pray.

They traveled for a few hours before coming to a halt within the forest. Sam was dragged off the horse, the gag pulled off his mouth, and a knight in armor came to stand in front of him.

"So... you are Winchester's innocent." The dark haired knight grabbed Sam's jaw, fingers digging in. "He will not be happy with sullied goods, I'm afraid. Would that we had captured you before he had time to consumate, that would have destroyed him. This still might."

Sam stood before the knight, heart hammering in his chest, lips parted with his fearful breaths. As the knight grabbed his jaw, Sam grit his teeth together, stagger stepping backward. "Don't touch me!" Sam told him, hands raised to push the man's hand away from him. "I'd rather you kill me," Sam spat, eyeing the knight before him with distaste.

"What you'd rather is of no consequence. Alistair." A moment later, the knight released Sam and had a few servants help remove his armor. "You do have an innocent look about you. How many times has he taken you?"

The others snickered.

Sam's mouth opened, then closed as he glared at the knight. "It's none of your business what Lord Winchester and I -" Sam's mouth moved but he couldn't make himself say the words, couldn't say that he wasn't going to tell this man how much they had touched each other, did things together. Sam took another staggering step backward as he eyed the knight. "What - what are you gonna do?"

"Form a line," he told his men. Immediately there was arguing as to who would take Sam next, after the knight. He motioned toward a tree, and two men pushed Sam against it, each of them pinning one of the innocent's arms against the trunk. The knight walked up to him, grasped his tunic and tore it off him in a single motion. 

Sam struggled against the men who held him against the tree.r "No! Let me go! Let me," Sam's words faltered as he gasped, his clothes torn from his body. Sam's eyes were wide as he looked at the knight, struggling hard as he shook his head.

"Isn't this... fine." The knight touched the silky undertunic. "Do you think he will offer a ransom for your return?" Before the question was answered, the silk was torn off Sam's body, and the knight stepped foward, pressing against him.

Sam grit his teeth as the knight pressed against him, pain lancing his flesh where the metal from his weapons jabbed into him. Sam grunted out a breath, "Don't. do. this." he told the knight between clenched teeth. Sam turned his face away, lips parting as he gasped in breaths, panic and fear making his breaths quicken, his heart hammering inside his chest. "He - he doesn't care about me, this won't get you anything!" 

Cupping Sam's chin, the knight crushed his mouth over Sam's, giving him a brutal kiss that left bruises and blood. 

Sam whimpered against the knight's lips, tried to keep his mouth closed only to have it forced open as Sam tried to turn his head, tug his arms free of the men holding him. He gulped in air as he stared wide eyed at the knight. He could taste the coppery tang of blood in his mouth, feel areas that were cut from the man's teeth and the harshness of the kiss.

The knight's hands went to Sam's breeches, he tugged them down, stepped back, and motioned for others to cut them off Sam's body. "Do you beg him for it?" He laughed. "I bet you beg pretty. Beg me... right now... beg." 

Sam tried, in vain, to kick at the hands that grasped at him. His head snapped up, his gaze meeting that of the knight as Sam shook his head, pressing his lips together. _Oh God, no._

One of the men pinched Sam's nipple. "Answer him."

Gasping in pain, Sam struggled and shook his head. "No! Don't touch me! I do not beg for _it_! Leave me be!" Sam told him, "Lord Winchester," he shook his head, "he does not care for me, this will get you nowhere, please, let me go!" Sam pleaded, pulling hard against the hands that held him.

"BEG," the knight shouted, backhanding him. Stepping back again, he undid his own breeches, and pulled his cock out. Watching the quivering boy, he found himself already leaking. The shouts to take the boy had his blood going and his patience was running thin. 

The slap had Sam's head snapping to the side, pain slicing through his cheekbone and a low raw cry of pain ripping from his throat. Slowly turning his head back, Sam's eyes widened, as he saw the knight's thick arousal. "No! No!" Sam yelled, panicked, as he struggled, cringing as much as possible against the tree, knees starting to buckle at the idea that this was the _it_ the others had screamed, begged and cried over. Sam started to tremble, tears stinging his eyes as he shook his head, "Please..."

Unceremoniously, he found himself turned around, though his arms were never released through the manouver, the front of his body slammed up against the tree, knocking the wind from his lungs. Sam tried to draw in enough air, to remember how to breathe. "No! Don't do this! No! Oh God no!" he struggled harder, yanking and pulling at his arms, hands clenched into tight fists, but he was only pulled back, tighter against the tree, so much so that his cheek was nearly crushed against the rough wood as he turned his head to the side. "Please! Dean! Oh God Dean!"

*

He heard his name shouted in his innocent's distinct voice. As Dean bore down toward the group, ahead of the other knights with him, all those places in his heart that had hurt, that had panicked and broke, that had been torn down, were suddenly replaced by anger, as hot as his other passions.

*

Held in place, unable to move, to get away, to shield himself, barely able to breathe, Sam feltt the knight touching him in places he had no right to, felt the knights cock at the cleft of his ass. Sam's heart stuttered in his chest, lips parting as he screamed, tears falling down his face.

So this was that the others had been so afraid of...


	5. Chapter 5

The group surrounding Sam parted at the sound of the hoofbeats. The knight, who'd aligned his cock to Sam's hole pulled away and was pulling his breeches back into place. There was pandemonium as the group had not seen anyone following, had thought they were safe, had been sure no one could go at the pace required to catch up to them.

The sound of hoofbeats barely registed with Sam as he trembled and cried softly, shaking his head slowly as it lay pressed against the tree bark, hands clenched into tight fists. _No, God, no... Please..._

Dean leaped off his horse, his gaze flashing over the scene of his innocent held by two men, the third appeared to have raped him. "Sonova..." his sword was in his hand and swinging, severing one man's arm, then the next as they held Sam. Blood spurted from their stumps, as they shouted in horror.

Released, Sam slumped onto the ground, curling up into an almost ball as he cried softly, palms pressed against the ground, head hanging, face nearly hidden by his bangs, his tears running down the bridge of his nose, dripping off onto the earth.

Peter slipped off is horse as the others clashed in battle, and Lord Winchester fought the knight who'd touched what was his. Wrapping a cloak around Samuel's pale body, Peter started to usher him to his own steed. It was a sad day for his Lordship, and for his innocent.

Feeling the warm covering, Sam turned his tear stained face, cringing away from the hands that were too close, before he saw it was Peter and moved to get to his feet with Peter's help. As he got over to the horses, Sam stood, one hand on the horse, trembling, his head bowed as he sniffled and sucked in ragged quivering breaths.

Helping Sam get on the steed, Peter mounted behind him. "This night will pass, and they will pay." Those were all the words of comfort he could offer, as he kept his eyes open in the event there was a second attack. Winchester's orders were clear, the innocent was to be saved at all costs.

Swords clashed something fierce, leaving showers of sparks in their wake. The clanging was loud at first, but slowly reduced to a mere din. Then those who had stolen the innocent lay dead on the ground, every last one of them. 

Dean strode to his horse, mounted, and pulled up next to Peter's. Arms stretched out, he reached for what was his, searching Sam's face pinched with shock. He was alive, that was what was important. His Samuel was alive.

Sam looked at Dean, new tears forming in his eyes. "They said you needed me," he told him, voice small and broken, "that I had to hurry to you." Sam tore his gaze away from Dean's, hanging his head as his tears fell anew.

"Come," Dean pulled him onto his lap, unwieldy though he was, and held him close. He did not like the stench of the other men on him, but the scent of soap was still strong and covered it. "They're dead. You're..." he took a deep breath and kissed his temple. "Safe now. I wish I'd... I should never have let you alone. I am sorry they hurt you, Samuel. I'll take care of you now."

* * *

They'd ridden hard to get back to the keep. Without allowing anyone else to touch his innocent, Dean had bellowed for the servants to draw up another bath, and then had taken Sam to their room. He'd washed Sam up, as well as the blood off himself, and he'd given the boy some sleep clothes and put him inside the great bed. A fire roared in the large fireplace, and the servant brought him a warm up liquor based sleeping drought that Lady Elizabeth sent up. Knowing Sam would not be used to it, she'd sweetened it with honey and cloves.

Dean crawled onto the bed, where Sam was resting against the pillows, and put his arm out for him to come close. "Have a sip of this draught," he said, soflty, concerned eyes searching his innocent's face. It hurt.... the knowledge that he would have to search out another innocent, he wanted _this_ one. He liked Sam's sense of humor, he liked how he felt in his arms, how he tasted. He liked how he complimented his eyes and meant it, not for his riches, not for his fame, but he told the simple truth in his heart.

Sam scooted toward Dean, laying his head on his chest as he reached for the cup with a shaking hand. Raising his head up, Sam took a sip, wincing as the alcohol hit the cuts on his lips, stinging. The liquid was warm and left a smooth burn down his throat, but it helped to chase away the chill that seemed to have settled inside of him, so he gulped a good amount down before handing the cup back.

Lowering his head to Dean's chest again, Sam moved a single digit over his master's skin in circular patterns as he stared off. Slowly, Sam's eyes slid closed as he started to relax against Dean. Licking his sore lips, Sam spoke. "He touched me," he told Dean softly, "kissed me and hit me. He wanted to know," Sam turned his head more into the flesh of Dean's chest the movement muffling his words slightly, "wanted to know what we had done. He said that he bet I begged pretty, wanted me to beg him." Sam turned his head again, forehead rolling against Dean's chest, "I told him I would rather he killed me," Sam sighed softly. "I know now what the others screamed and cried over, I think." Sam sniffled. "His - his member was at my," he couldn't bring himself to say it, to say the words. Lifting his head, Sam looked up at Dean, "He was so close to pushing himself into me ... there, I -" Sam lowered his head again, burying it against Dean's chest as he exhaled a shaky breath.

Dean had been merely holding him, rubbing his hand lightly up and down Sam's back, listening though his heart was breaking imagining the wrongs done to one so innocent of both and heart. Even the blood that had run into the earth when he was through with the cowardly brigands had not cooled his anger, nothing ever would. But Samuel's surprising statement... that he had _almost_ but not quite pushed inside, had Dean gripping him tighter.

"He didn't... you weren't violated." Though he closed his eyes, tears streamed down his face. "Thank God... Thank God Samuel. I will keep you safe, I won't ever let anything like this happen again. Not ever, not ever," he vowed, kissing his innocent's temple. "I swear it."

Sam was growing sleepier, the events and the liquor all taking a toll on his body, his eyes drifting closed more than once before he glanced up at his master's face. Sam sniffled and raised a hand cupping Dean's cheek, his thumb running over his cheekbone, wiping away tears. "Just - just hold me and don't let go." He buried his face against Dean's neck, "I don't wanna think about it anymore," he said softly, his words muffled, hand slowly slipping down off Dean's cheek to rest against his shoulder.

"I'm holding you," Dean said hoarsely. "Never letting you go. Never." Wiping one hand over his face, he tried to think when the last time was that he cried tears and couldn't remember. "Think about home. Our home. You'll like it there, Sam, and you'll be safe. We'll be there tomorrow." He kissed him again, this time gently on the corner of his mouth. "Do you want another sip?"

Sam gave a muffled groan frowning slightly. "Mmm... maybe," pulling his head up, he braced himself on an elbow and reached for the cup. Taking another long drink he handed the cup back and licked his abused lips, a small lop-sided grin pulling at them. "My lips are numb." His smile widened before he dropped his head back down, relaxing against Dean once more. "Home. Who all lives there?" Sam asked him softly, voice slurring with sleepiness and the alcohol.

Setting the cup down, Dean leaned toward the table, taking Sam with him as he blew out the candle. Settling back down, holding him tight, he stared into the fire. "You, me, my fearsome housekeeper, my knights. Some others.... the people who live within the castle walls. About a dozen dogs, we'll need to get a basset hound or two," he smiled. "Oh, and a feline. She thinks she rules the roost."

Sam smiled softly and shook his head. "Got me, don't need a hound, remember my nose?" his smile fell away into a slight frown. "Are you going to take a wife like Sir Harry has?" Sam nuzzled closer, "Kate said she doesn't mind and Christiana said I was a fool, but I was hoping for lo-" Sam's voice trailed off as sleep claimed him.

"A wife?" The thought had never crossed his mind. "No, who would want me, hmm?" He chuckled. 

Sam didn't catch much if any of what Dean had answered, already sleep had taken him, though it was a light sleep and the sound of his master's voice was comforting, causing Sam to snuggle closer, one leg moving over Dean's as Sam lay nearly on him, his face against the side of Dean's neck, warm breath puffing out from between parted lips.

"You should sleep, rest." The smile stayed on Dean's face, though this could very well have been the worst night of his life. If Samuel had been violated, though he would have taken care of the boy, kept him in his houshold if he wanted, or given him his freedom, Dean would have had to choose a new innocent. Since he'd been fighting the darkness in himself as early as his own majority, there was a good chance that he would be lost to the darkness before a new innocent that suited him was found and matured. At the time of first consummation, the innocent had to be untouched, or else he could not cleanse his knight's soul. Many knew that Lord Winchest was close to the edge, that he battled the darkness within him as much as that surrounding him these days. He had many enemies. Those who were jealous and wanted his lands. Those who were of the supernatural ilk and had an axe to grind. He hadn't bothered to find out who had hatched this plot against him, he'd been too angry, but in the end, it mattered not which enemy had reared his head. The important thing was he had Samuel back, and a second chance to keep him safe.

 

* * *

In the morning, as they'd left the keep, they'd passed the bodies of two men strung up outside it's walls. They were responsible for having let Dean's enemies into the keep, and their punishment had been swift. Dean had turned Sam's face away from the sight, and held him just a little tighter. 

A half days ride later, Winchester Castle was visible at the top of a hill. Dean knew Sam was looking at the great structure, probably wondering whose it was. As their horses thundered through the village street, people ran to the sides of the road and pointed or clapped. "These are our people," Dean said, and there's home, he said as he lifted his eyes toward the castle. 

Sam's brow furrowed as he looked toward the castle, "This is all yours?" he asked, feeling self conscious. Here he had joked with and teased Dean, told him he had nice eyes and nose and he was a powerful man. Sam hung his head feeling like a fool, no doubt Lord Winchester thought him one. Raising his head, Sam sighed as he nodded, he would have to remember with whom it was proper to do such things with, most definitely not someone like his Lordship. He glanced over toward Peter as he rode nearby. "Does Peter have his own castle too?" Sam asked, wondering if he might not have even Peter to joke with when he was unable to see Kate. Someone to talk to and let his guard down around, to be himself with.

"No," Dean chuckled. "Peter and his family live with us. He has some landholdings, but his younger brother is more suited to the life of overseeing farms." He slid his hand slowly up Sam's chest, rested his fingers on his throat as he turned him slightly. "You seem disappointed."

Sam pressed his lips together as he shook his head, "No, not disappointed, my lord, I just -" he licked his lips, "I didn't realize your standing, I guess." Sam muttered, before looking down a moment, then up, a frown creasing his brow. "Forgive my, um, naivity," he pressed his lips together once more shaking his head, "it was stupid of me."

"You mean for not standing on ceremony?" He raised a brow. "I find it refreshing, don't let this change anything." Leaning in, he brushed his mouth over Sam's, closing his eyes at the feelings that washed over him. If not for last night, the kiss would have been very different as they approached the shadow of the castle walls, very different. 

Sam gave a small nervous smile as he huffed and shook his head, "I think it would serve me well not to mention your acute ability to slay those of the insect world again for fear one day I might just lose my head over it," he said, wringing his hands

"You're afraid of me now, because of last ni..." He was certain Samuel had never seen blood shed before, and he'd been brutal with those brutalizing his innocent. "I would never turn my sword against _you._ I wish you hadn't seen. I am not like them," he said, knowing Sam hadn't known him long enough to make any decisions about his character. "If you reserve your jesting only for Peter, I will... I'll miss it." He urged the horse faster toward their destination, trying to fight the ridiculous sense of loss developing in his heart.

 

They main gates were raised for them and they rode through the streets within the castle walls, people lining them to get a glimpse of their Lordship's innocent. Ordinarily, Dean would have slowed down to allow them their fill, but in light of Sam's trauma, he would instead schedule a festivity where they could meet him in a few days.

Sam didn't answerbut his eyes widened seeing Lord Winchester's splendid home. Indeed had, the stables alone seemed to be nicer than the small buildings around the monestary that had been used for different things, one of which being the prayer room for punishments.

The streets narrowed, and then widened as suddenly into a large cobbled courtyard. Charles was first to come to their side, and Dean handed Sam down. "Take him right inside."

Charles ushered Sam in, while Dean took care of a few details and followed them inside. Already Charles was introducing Sam to the staff. Dean asked for refreshments, and they headed for one of several sitting rooms. Cloaks and gloves were removed, and Dean watched his innocent trying to take all of it in at once.

Sam paced slowly about the room, looking around, his bottom lip held securely between his teeth, each person who entered and left catching and holding his attention until they disappeared once again from the room. Hands clasp behind his back, Sam continued to walk and look, peering about, even going so far as to wander to the door, but no further before turning back into the room. 

Peter walked in and after seeing Sam, exchanged looks with Dean. The men started to talk, trying to put Sam at ease, but the youth seemed to still be on edge or at the very least nervous.

"Come have some refreshments," Dean said, nodding toward the settee. Pears and bread and cheese had been laid out for them, as well as water and wine. "You must be tired. I'll show you our rooms after." Again, looks were exchanged and there were some coughs. 

"Beware, Sam, of Lord Winchester's rather large pet dragon," Peter said.

"I thought it was a snake," Charles said, eyes wide open in mock surprise.

Dean rolled his eyes. 

Sam looked from Peter to Charles with wide eyes before a slow blush stole over his features. He managed to force himself to look at Dean. "Um, Kate and I were hoping that when next you have to leave she could come for a visit. Could she? I mean, there had been talk of maybe me going there, but I would rather not -" Sam paused, his gaze dropping for a momen., "I'd rather stay home." Sam told him as he looked back up.

"So long as your snake is holstered, Kate may visit," Dean answered.

There were guffaws from Peter and Charles, and Dean's shoulders shook, but he tried not to look too amused.

Sam looked from Dean to Peter and Charles then back to Dean a frown of confusion creasing his brow. "My _snake_ , my Lord?" Sam shook his head slowly, "I don't... I have no pets other than the hounds back at the monastery, but they were sort of everyones, I -" Sam glanced from Dean to Peter and Charles at their snickers and bit his lip, frowning.

Clearing his throat, Dean tried again. "So long as you don't lift your robes, I am certain your snake will be confined, as it should be." He searched Samuel's face, a smile teasing the corners of his own mouth as he waited for the other boot to fall.

Sam looked at Dean in puzzlement, "My robes? I -" Sam's hands went to his robe figeting with it as he stood pondering Dean's words. A moment later Sam gasped in a breath, his cheeks turning a deep scarlet, the blush then stealing over his entire features and down his neck, even his ears seemed to be tipped with the deep crimson stain, his eyes wide as he shook his head adamently, lips parted in shock. "No, no my lord, I would never, I did not mean - I, no, no my lord!" Sam sputtered.

"It is as it should be. Dean," Peter pounded his friend on the back, "is a jealous zoo keep." 

"Samuel, ignore these fools," no matter that Dean himself had taken part in the jesting, "have a drink and we'll go to our quarters."

Hanging his head in his embarrassment, Sam took a seat beside Dean, reaching for a cup. He kept his head lowered as he drank, his blush still staining his cheeks slightly. Stealing a glance at Dean, Sam smiled nervously as he shook his head, "Snake," he huffed.

Leaning in near Sam's ear, Dean whispered. "Beautiful snake, a bit shy... hides behind stones, but I'll tame it yet." Lifting his head, he looked at his friends. "Samuel asked whether you two don't need to go to your quarters to feed your _little worms_."

The two knights swung their gazes toward Sam in partial disbelief. They knew Dean too well.

* * *

Three days and two nights had passed and Dean had not pressed Sam for more than a few stolen kisses, having him naked in his bed, a few loving caresses, touching, but nothing more. Sam had been both relieved and confused by Dean's lack of attentions. He knew he could not ask his lordship to wait forever, knew he had obligations as an innocent and that he'd been chosen, trained and ept apart from others for a reason.

It was true, the attempted rape had weighed heavy on Sam. That first night it happened, he'd had nightmares even as Dean held him close. But soon, the dreams stopped and he stopped dwelling on what almost happened. Still, it was not that Sam was feeling any more ready to fulfill his duties than he had been before, but, as Kate said, they had a purpose and what they did helped people, just like the knights. This was his contribution to helping others.

Peter had come to see him yesterday morning to explain to Sam about the darkness that was slowly overtaking his master, about how he needed Sam and how with their coupling, Dean would find relief he could get no where else but from his innocent. Sam felt a change in Dean as well, just within the past few nights, his smile had been more strained, his demeanor less playful.

Sam sat on the edge of their great bed now, the bedcurtains drawn back on one side where he sat awaiting his lordship. Dean had told him to go up to their room, that they would have dessert in bed and Sam had left straightaway to do as he was told.

Chewing his bottom lip, Sam made a decision. Pulling from the bed, Sam walked over to the small bowl of water that had been brought in for him to wash up with and splashed more water on his already cleaned face as he took a deep breath and gathered his courage.

Reaching for the shoulder ties of his bedclothes, Sam pulled the garment from his body, letting it pool on the floor, before walking back to the bed and crawling in under the covers to wait for his lordship. This was it, he was going to give as much as he could, as much as he was able to his master, he was going to fulfill his destiny.

Walking into the room, Dean was loudly muttering about having been way laid by the cook who was complaining that Sam had confiscated a lamb as a pet. "I said alright to the two hounds, but a lamb?" About to say more, he suddenly realized Samuel was already in bed and appeared to be wearing no clothes. 

His lips went dry as his gaze traveled up and down his innocent's chest, then up to meet his eyes. Ordinarily, he was the one who had to ask Sam to disrobe for him. "Are you too warm?" The fires were blazing and had taken the chill out of the room, but that didn't give him the entire explanation.

Sam pressed his lips together tightly and shook his head, his gaze locked with Dean as he raised up on one elbow to look over at him, half laying on his side. "No, my lord," his gaze flickered to the fire, then back to Dean's eyes, "are you?"

"Seeing you like this gets me warm," he agreed, trying to force humor into his voice but afraid Sam would see through him, and be afraid of what he saw. He'd clamped down on his needs, had slaked his lust on his own imagining his innocent, but the hunger inside him was becoming more voracious and he was afraid he'd go back on a promise, or make Sam see him like he did the other knights who had ravished their innocents. Especially after what happened to Sam, it was the last thing he wanted.

Crossing the room, he sat on the edge of the bed and started to undress. "Would you like some wine?"

Sam managed to keep his gaze on Dean and not look down at his words, the only show that the words made Sam any more nervous were the small movement of Sam's fingers in the bed linens, pulling the linens into his hands. 

Sam licked his lips as he watched Dean move toward the bed and sit. "I probably should but I think perhaps I need my head about me," Sam hung his head shyly, before raising it again and forcing the words past his lips, though they were soft. "If things go as I have always dreamed, I would like very much to remember it." Again Sam's fingers nervously pulled material into his hands which fisted loosely in the linens.

Lost in his own private battle, Dean wasn't in the frame of mind to unravel puzzles. "Hmm? Dreams, what dreams?" Getting up, he dropped his heavy belt down on the chair, stripped off his tunic and took off his boots. He went ahead and poured two goblets of wine, and brought over the strawberries that had been left in the room for them. Placing the plate between them, he rolled on his side to look over at Sam.

Sam shook his head to Dean's question about dreams. It wasn't important and impossible to explain a young teen's daydreams of how his life would be, how the master he had never met would treat him. 

As Dean settled on the bed, Sam raised his gaze to Dean's face. "Sorry about the lamb, my lord," he mumbled. "She had soft eyes, like yours, I couldn't let anything happen to her," he told him softly, a shy smile pulling at the corner of his lips.

Dean frowned. His eyes were _not_ as soft as a lambs. His innocent must be seeing things...

Nervous and unsure how to offer himself to Dean, Sam lay on his side just looking at him for a long while before he started to worry his bottom lip. "My lord, do you -" Sam looked down, watched his fingers move in the linens for a moment before looking back up. "Do you not want me as your innocent anymore?"

The question startled him. "Why would you think such a thing?" During the silence that followed, Dean's mind spun. "Because you were touched?" He shook his head, "I don't hold that against you, how could I?" 

Sam worried his lip a few more moments before taking a deep breath. "Then why," he licked his lips, "why do you not touch me like you used to? I thought... Peter said that you needed me and yet," Sam worried his lip again, "Am I not appealing any more? Do you still see that knight touching me?" Sam shook his head. "I'll do whatever you ask of me to rid you of the vision. I didn't want him to, I told him it would get him no where, that you wouldn't care. I tried to get them to see, but -" Sam clamped his mouth shut, feeling like now he was begging, begging for something he didn't even know.

Pulling the linens high on his body, Sam shook his head. "Nevermind, my lord, I do not mean to trouble you. I just wanted to give you what you needed, I thought it was me, I --"

A muscle pulsed in Dean's jaw as he listened. He didn't like the reminder of the details of that night, but his entire body started to hum when he realized what Samuel was saying. "Are you... you want to seduce me?" 

Reaching out, he pulled the sheets back down to where they'd been before, so he had an enticing view of Sam's chest. Raising his eyes, he allowed Sam to see the full extend of the heat of his desire. "I want you more every moment that I know you, but I am afraid I will be too rough, especially after what happened that..." he nodded. "The need to kiss you, to take your mouth with mine, to have you naked and writhing under me, to make you call my name... to _beg_ ," he ran a hand over his face, knowing those men had demanded Sam beg, but he told Sam the truth anyway, "it's always there, beneath the surface. I have to fight not to act on it. I practice swordplay with my men, sometimes all day to try to stop thinking about it, about you, to tire myself... to give you time."

His fingers closed over he side of the plate. "So many times, in the middle of the day, I have found myself coming inside, ready to order you to our bed, only to stop because I do not want to be equated with them, those men, or the knights you heard at the monastery."

Dean took a breath. "If you knew what was inside me, or even understand what I just told you, I know you would want to run and hide from me." He paused. "I do not know your dreams. I know that when I thought you'd been violated, that I'd have to choose a new innocent, it was the worst moment of my life. Even then, it was my intention to keep you... like Elizabeth and Kate, because I could not give you up even if you could no longer serve your function. Learning the truth... that you hadn't been violated ... was the best moment of my life." He'd cried with joy, though his innocent could not know it. 

As Sam listened, his heart filled with feelings for his knight, it made his heart soar and his lips quirk upward, though he bit his lip so he wouldn't smile for fear that it was not what he should do just now. 

Pressing a hand, palm flat on the bed, Sam slid closer to Dean, then reached for the plate, turning to lay it behind him on the bed, before sliding closer again until they were but a breath away from one another. Reaching a hand up, Sam cupped Dean's cheek, letting his thumb run slowly over his cheek bone as slightly slanted champagne hazels gazed into brilliant green.

Leaning in, his dark lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes, Sam pressed his lips up against Dean's, breathing in Dean's breath, breathing out past Dean's parted lips. "An innocent could dream no better than this," he whispered, his lips brushing against Dean's as he spoke.

The scent of his innocent, the heat from his body, sent incredible waves of need through Dean. "A knight could choose no better," he answered, skimming Sam's mouth with his. 

Sam sighed softly against Dean's lips as he reached for his hand, pulling it slowly toward himself. "T - touch me, my lord.," Sam asked placing Dean's hand on his chest.

Dean's heart slammed into his chest. Bracing himself on his elbow, he pushed his hand down, moving the sheet off Sam's body to his waist, and leaning in, nuzzling his throat as he explored his body slowly, memorizing it. They hadn't bathed together again, but the memory of Sam on top of him, finding his pleasure to completion for the first time, had Dean in his grips. "That night in the tub... do you ever think about that?" he asked thickly, moving his mouth down, kissing Sam's chest, licking and teasing him with his tongue.

Sam swallowed, his eyes closed, lips parted. "I - I think about why it is that you do not want that anymore, I worry that I no longer please you, I wonder at my purpose and if I will please you. I - it was frightening, but I liked it, liked feeling you, kissing you," Sam shook his head, "I - I don't know why you ask."

"I ask because I think of that moment often with pleasure, and it makes me ache between my legs." He lifted his face. "I want to know if it is the same for you."

Sam's mouth opened and closed, but no words came out, his eyes widening slightly as he shook his head. "I - we aren't suppose to - I," Sam licked his lips and ducked his head, a deep stain spreading across his cheeks. "I thought about it once but I had to stop," he mumbled softly.

Dean groaned at the idea, and at Sam's innocence. "Will you do it for me now?" he asked, pulling back and lifting the sheets, his gaze locked on Sam's semi-hard member. "Touch yourself and think of me."

Sam shifted nervously, fighting against the desire to cover himself. "N - now, my lord?" he asked, eyes wide. Licking his lips, Sam eased himself down onto the pillows, laying on his back. Closing his eyes, Sam thought back to when they were in the tub together, the way his lordship had kissed him, how he had kissed in return, the feel of his body sliding against his aching cock as he rutted against his master, the sweet ache that had him holding onto Dean tighter.

One of Sam's hands moved off the bed to his chest, slowly sliding downward, stopping just above his pelvic bone, his hips slowly thrusting upward just slightly off the bed, his cock hard and starting to ache with want. Sam's lips parted, his breaths quickening as he shifted against the bed, a soft low moan spilling from his lips.

Dean held his breath, his gaze shifting from Sam's hand and cock, to his face, and back. Sam's fingers were only inches from his thickening arousal, and if Dean didn't know better, he'd say Sam was teasing him. "Go on. Please," he said, letting his fingers dance down Sam's side, and his thigh. "Touch, now."

A strangled whimper sounded in Sam's throat before his neck arched, lips parting as a puff of breath left him in a rush and his hand movrf down to wrap around his cock, though he simply held himself. Sam's head thrashed on the pillow, his hips bucking harder as he ran his thumb over the tip of his cock, his back nearly arching. His breaths panted out, his brow creasing. Sam pulled his hand away from himself, back up onto his stomach, fingertips digging into his own flesh. He licked his lips as he turned his head toward Dean, lashes fluttering as he opened them, "Please," he begged breathlessly, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Dean was so hard from watching his innocent's efforts, his breeches threatened to cut the blood supply to his cock. Dean undid them, then pushed them down together with his brais. He let Sam see what he was doing to him, that he wasn't alone. "Do you want me to touch you?" he asked, meeting Sam's tortured gaze.

Sam nodded his head slightly, his eyes passion heavy as he gazed at Dean. "And - and kiss me?" Sam asked him softly before tilting his head back and parting his lips, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes, waiting expectantly.

Dean smirked, bent over, and kissed Sam's cock... on its tip, then down its length, than again on its tip, before lifting his head and easing back onto his side. "Anything for you, Samuel," he said, sliding his hand up Sam's thigh, to his stomach, and closing his fist around Sam's shaft. He squeezed gently a few times, then started to stroke slowly, his thumb stimulating the sensitive area of his crown. 

Sam gasped in a breath and raised his head off the pillows slightly, his eyes opening to mere slits as he looked down for a moment at himself, before his head fell back on the pillows. He licked his lips, a soft moan sounding deep in his throat as his head slowly rolled to the side. The corners of his lips twitched upward, "Wasn't - wasn't quite what I meant," he gave a breathy chuckle before another moan tore from his lips, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he writhed against the bed, legs bending and straightening as his hips moved slowly.

"No? Did you have something more like this in mind?" Dean asked, dipping his head down and nipping Sam's side with his teeth. He licked the spot better, sucked the taut flesh inside his mouth, then lifted up again. He never stopped stroking Sam's cock, but he spread his innocent's pre-cum so that his hand glided more easily over his flesh. "Hmm?" His mouth was close enough to Sam's now, that his innocent could steal a kiss.

Sam's breaths panted out, his chest rising and falling slightly faster, "Mmm, no, not that either." Sam arched his back slightly, his hips thrusting his cock into Dean's hand, "N - not that I minded either one," he licked his lips as he nodded, "I liked them," he said lifting his head slightly to brush his lips across Dean's. "More."

Rolling half over Sam, Dean took his mouth, this time in a less than controlled scorching kiss, his tongue delving in and out of his mouth. The dark fires within him roared alive, reminded him that Samuel was his. 

Sam moaned into Dean's mouth, slight fear mixed with something else, that other thing that happened when he thought about Dean, about touching, kissing, that made his heart beats quicken along with his breaths.

"Meant for me," Dean said, between hard kisses, "mine, Sam, from the moment I laid eyes on you, mine." 

_Yes, yours, Dean. Always._ Sam's hips thrust up against Dean as he ground himself against his master, moans breaking from deep in his throat.

He took a couple of deep, labored breaths as he stared down at his innocent, then brought his mouth down again, forcing his tongue inside, claiming him as his.

As Dean's mouth claimed his again, Sam moaned, wrapping his arms around him, fingertips digging into the flesh of Dean's back.

So sweet, every one of his reactions so real, so true. Every sound, every one of his innocent's movements fanned the flames of Dean's desire. His kisses became harsher, his grinding more frenzied, needing and taking from his innocent, holding him more aggressively, possessively. 

Sam's breaths came harder, his heart hammering hard in his chest, the sound of it in his ears. His lord's kisses were harder, rougher than he could remember them being, not the soft gentle ones like in the tub. These hurt nearly as badly as the knight who had hit him, but Sam didn't refuse, didn't stop Dean, instead opening his mouth to him as he tried to meet each frenzied thrust with his own.

"Want to fuck you, want it so bad," Dean said, moving his mouth to Sam's ear, "want to be inside you." 

Sam gasped in a breath, his head turning to the side, eyes closed as he panted, thrusting, arching against Dean. This was it, this was what Peter had told him Dean needed, it was what he was for, why he was. This was how he would help save people and he would be strong and unafraid like the knights who fought evil things. Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring with his panted breaths as he nodded.

Dean found himself spreading Sam's legs wide, positioning himself, not remembering having done so..."Slow me down... Samuel,..." he practically shouted, afraid for his innocent.

Sam's eyes snapped open, lips parting in a gasp of air. What had happened? What was wrong? Sam frowned, before grimacing in slight pain of too hard a thrust against him, lips parting as he panted. "S'okay, take what you need," he panted out, neck arching back as he grit his teeth and squeezed his eyes closed, hands digging his fingertips into Dean's flesh.

"No. Want it right... want it like you dream, slow me down. Slow me down Goddammit," he snarled even as he started to lift Sam's hips up and rubbed his cock against the cleft of his ass, seeking his hole, imagining breaching him, claiming him.

Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes closed. "I - I don't know how! Just - just do it, don't make me look, just do it!" Sam practically shouted back through gritted teeth.

A terrible undeniable need crawled through Dean's system, whispering, clawing at him, demanding he take Sam right now, with no preliminaries, no preparations, make him his. Sink into him, find salvation, heal the burns that were etched onto his soul, invisible to all, but there just the same. "Fuck... Samuel, help me," he demanded hotly against his lips. "I - don't - want - to - be - like - _them._ "

Sam opened his eyes as he reached up with one hand to cup the back of Dean's neck, his gaze locking with Dean's. Shyness, embarrassment, the terror that he would be laughed at all raged inside of him, but he had told himself he was going to be brave and he would be. Sam licked his lips, "Do you love me?" he asked him breathlessly, his voice soft and small, though his gaze never wavered.

"Do I... oh God, Sam... this isn't the time to talk... fuck," he got up on his knees, pulled Sam closer, "tell me to stop. Push me. Remind me of my promises," he said through gritted teeth, as his control over his body started to slip. "Before I..."

Sam took a deep breath and turned his head, no longer looking at Dean. "It wasn't a difficult question," he mumbled softly. Turning his attention back to Dean, he looked at him through hurt narrowed eyes. "No," he shook his head, reaching out with one hand, he planted it against the wall, the other he lifted above his head and pressed back against the headboard, pushing himself at Dean. "Just DO IT!" he yelled at him through gritted teeth, neck arched back.

"Sam... Sam..." he pleaded, but there was nothing left in him to fight with. His body raged and clenched... needing release, release that only his innocent could offer him. He pulled Sam's cheeks apart, his head arching back as he plunged his cock deep inside his virgin, his innocent, Sam's name coming out of the back of his throat in choked plea. "Oh God..." he was finally inside his innocent's velvet hot sheath. "So tight, so damned tight."

As Dean plunged deep inside him, Sam's eyes snapped open wide, a cry of pain tearing from his lips before he could stop it. Sam breathed through the pain, it hurt, hurt horribly. He bit his lip until he tasted his own blood, squeezing his eyes closed as he did. His hands pulled away from the wall and headboard, curling into fists where they lay as he tried not to move too much, tried to think of something else, of running in the monastery yard with Christiana of laughing and day dreaming about finding love.

The urge to fuck was riding him hard. Dean growled as he fought it, moving as slowly as he could, knowing he'd already done wrong by Sam. The apology stuck in his throat, but he tried to allow Sam's body to adjust, he gripped Sam's hips, fingers bruising his innocent, trying to focus on anything but his needs.

Sam didn't know how long he laid there like that, with Dean just barely moving, but the pain started to ease into a dull aching burn, eased enough that he pulled his arms down, though his hands remained in tight fists, his eyes closed. "Take what you need and let me go to my room.... please," Sam said softly.

His innocent was rejecting him, that much made it through the haze of Dean's lust. A cry broke from his throat, a mixture of sorrow and rage. There were no longer any rules, no promises to keep, just nature... just letting what had to be take its course. Dean pulled almost out, then thrust hard, blinded by white lights behind his eyelids as pleasure and pain washed over him. He repeated the motion, and then found a rhythm, moving in and out of his innocent, angling his thrusts, moaning his pleasure as the darkness within him was scoured by the good and innocence in Sam.

Sam raised a hand, covering his mouth so he wouldn't make a sound, bit his lip so hard he felt his blood trickle down his chin behind his hand, but he lay perfectly still and he didn't shed a single tear, he was brave, he was as brave as any knight as he let his lordship take what he needed to be free of the evil that plagued him.

Feeling Samuel tense under him and hearing no sounds of pleasure anymore, Dean rushed to find his release. With quick, deliberate movements, he reached his peak, his back stiffening, his grip on Sam tightening as he came hard inside him, filling him with his hot seed, and slowly relaxing his muscles. "Samuel?"

Swallowing hard at the silence echoing around them, Dean kissed him. "I'm sorry. I tried." He searched his innocent's face visible by firelight. "I'll make it better for you next time." He swept his hand over Sam's cock, trying to pleasure him while he was still inside him.

Sam pulled his hand down from his mouth, wiping away the blood that had trickled down his chin, his bottom lip bright red with it. "Please, if you are finished, let me up," he asked, eyes still closed. "I would like to go to my room."

"Samuel." Swallowing hard, he pulled gently out and started to wipe him down with a linen, but seeing how stiff he was, Dean dropped the linen in his lap. "I am finished," he echoed tightly.

Sam gave a curt nod and slid away from Dean, only opening his eyes once he knew he no longer faced him. Sam slid off the side of the bed, retrieving his bed clothes off the floor and quickly put them on before half stumbling to the door and was out without another word.

Once inside his room, Sam closed the door and went to his bed, laying down on his stomach, Sam buried his face in the pillows and wept softly, not for what had happened as much as for the loss of a love that he had never truly had. Christiana was right, he was a fool.

Three minutes later, the big heavy wooden chest in Dean's room went crashing to the floor, and his Lordship left the room, the door slamming behind him. By the time he was part way down the hallway, guards started to approach to see what was amiss, only to have orders barked at them. Dean wanted his horse waiting, and the gates opened, and no Goddamit, he did not want an escort.

* * *

The castle inhabitants were a bit subdued. Lord Winchester had bitten several heads off, broken his fast before the kitchen staff were prepared to serve, and was out surveying the defenses, and finding fault with everything. When Samuel appeared at the breakfast table, many eyes were on him, wondering if he knew what was amiss. 

With what seemed like every eye in the hall on him, as if they all knew what had transpired the night before, Sam was starting to wonder if Dean had been up bright and early telling of how he'd finally gotten his innocent to do his duty. By the time Sam had managed to scarf down a couple slices of bread and some fruit he was feeling more than a little self conscious so he took off to find the stables and animals where he knew he wouldn't get looked at as though he were his lordship's tavern wench or worse.

Walking out to the stables, a slice of bread left in his hand, Sam went to the sheep that he had saved from the cook and sat down on his knees beside her, reaching out with his free hand to pet the animal as he fed her his bread with the other. "Hey, you. How are you, huh? A lot better than in the kitchens, I'll bet," Sam mumbled to the animal, smiling as he watched her eat.

"Now if you got an answer out of it, we'd have an exorcism to perform," Peter drawled, having seen Sam walk in and come to see what he was doing. 

Sam looked up, smiling wide at the knight, "Good morning, my lord." Sam looked back at the sheep and shrugged a shoulder. "She talks, sort of, in the way she acts, I mean. And at least she doesn't keep her love from you." His smile faded as he frowned, concentrating on petting the animal for a few moments before he looked back over at Peter, smiling again, "so how are you today?"

The knight gave a wince. "In truth I have the headache. His Lordship thinks that due to my age, he needs to shout in my ear," he nodded. "And you? How are you?"

Sam frowned as his gaze darted past Peter, looking for Dean, then he looked back at the knight and shrugged a shoulder. "I'm alright." he answered softly as he hung his head, quickly returning his attention to the sheep. After a moment, he looked back at Peter. "Do we have more animals? We need more animals," Sam nodded.

"More animals for what?" He'd seen the look Sam threw over his shoulder. "I believe _he_ is in the armory at the moment."

Sam shrugged a shoulder, "Mmm." He focused on petting the sheep a few more minutes then pulled to his feet, brushing off his breeches, "More animals," Sam nodded, "for me to love, of course." Sam rolled his eyes, "what else?" Sam started to walk toward the stalls, "what about the horses? Do we have colts? What about pigs? Chickens? goats?"

"Ah... I suppose, yes. You'll need to ask someone else about them, I'm a knight," he reminded Sam, as if that ought to be obvious. "I did see them bring in your horse," he confided. "But I don't think riding lessons will begin today." Based on Dean's thunderous expression whenever his innocent was mentioned, Peter was quite sure they wouldn't.

Sam froze mid-step, "I get to have riding lessons?" he asked Peter, a wide smile splitting his face, making his dimples show. "That will be wonderful," he nodded. Sam looked off toward the small homes within the castle walls, "I, um, I'll be back later, I'm going to go exploring," he said with a smile, before heading off toward the houses in the distance.

Shaking his head, Peter followed him out of the stables and then told two men to escort Sam. Dean would have all of their heads if anything else happened to his innocent, their spat aside.

Hours later, half the castle folk were in the dining hall eating. Dean's expression was somber as he kept looking at the stairs and wondering whether Sam was locked up in his chambers. Peter had told him he was out and about, but a long time had passed since. "Wine."

The single word had two servants rushing to serve him. 

Sam walked into the dining hall, a wide smile on his face, his head tucked low as he spoke sweetly with the new love in his arms. Hearing Peter's voice, Sam looked up, grinning and ran forward, "My lord, Peter! My lord! Look what I got! Look what I got!" Sam called to him, nearly dropping the tiny kitten he was holding twice and having to stop to grab onto the thing once again as it tried to climb him.

Sam came to a halt before Peter, grinning as he showed him the tiny white fluffball. "Rebecca from one of the houses inside the castle walls, she had a bunch of kittens and told me I could have one! Isn't he cute!?"

Putting his elbow on the table, Dean rested his chin on his hand, eyes narrowing to slits as his innocent completely and obviously ignored him in front of his household, and instead spoke with Peter. And what was that squirming within his hand? He quelled an internal groan... another animal.

"Cats are bad luck," Peter pronounced. "You should drown the thing before it brings more." His eyes darted to Charles, seeking aid.

Sam gasped, his eyes widening as he took a step back, hugging the kitten closer. "No! It's mine, I want to keep him!" Sam smiled down at the furball that tried to bat at his long bangs. "It loves me." Sam said in baby talk, before rubbing noses with the animal.

"Aye... as would any starving thing," Peter answered. "You make a good.. mother."

There were ample looks of commiseration aimed at Dean. He gave a world weary shrug, and sighed. "Serve the meats." His gaze was on Samuel, his eyes willing him to take a seat next to him, where he belonged. 

Sam took a few steps backward plopping down on the seat next to Dean, his gaze and smile still aimed at Peter. "I am not a mother," he chuckled and rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

Turning around his gaze landed on Dean for the first time that day and Sam's smile fell away, as he hung his head. "Thank you, my lord," he hefted the kitten closer, "for the kitten."

Dean nodded, thought he did not recall approving the cat, then all hell broke loose.

At that exact moment, four of Sam's dogs came bounding into the hall and straight to Sam, jumping up to paw at him, whining for his attention. Sam laughed and turned to pet each one, asking for kisses as he turned his head so the dogs could lick his cheeks. "Aww, you're a good kisser, yes you are, yes you are." He baby talked to each in turn, petting them and showing them the kitten, this is your new brother his name is..." Sam blinked, then frowned. He hadn't thought of a name for the kitten yet. "Um, well, I dunno yet, but we'll think of something," he told the dogs with a nod. "Yes we will, yes we will." Again with the baby talk.

Clearing his throat, Dean took a breath. "Where did these dogs come from. We have enough castle dogs..." He motioned to a servant, "take them outside."

Sam looked up at him, "Um, well, I, that is." He bit his lip and held the kitten out toward Dean, "Wanna hold my kitten?" Sam asked him with a grin, before glancing back toward the dogs as they were taken out. "Don't hurt my dogs! Bridgette's pregnant!" Sam called to the servant before clearing his throat and looking back at Dean. "Well, she is," he mumbled, hanging his head slightly as he hugged his kitten to his chest.

Dean's eyes widened... pregnant. "I asked for wine." He didn't know when, but he'd drained the goblet. He gave the little runt on Sam's chest a resentful look. What had it done to deserve to be that close to his innocent? To get the benefit of his cooing? "It's ah... it's... nice," he said, stroking the thing with one finger, before moving back to allow the servant to serve him meat. 

Sam smiled at Dean's praise of his kitten. "Can I take him to my room with me?" Sam asked him as he reached for a piece of meat only to give it to the feline on his lap as he waited for Dean's answer. Sam licked his lips, "Peter said that he doesn't know how many animals we have, I asked him if we had," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "pigs and chickens and goats and stuff, because I think we need those."

Dean rubbed his forehead. "Yes, yes... and yes we do, but they are not coming inside." There was the ring of finality to his words. "Eat your meal, Samuel." He searched his innocent's face again, and confirmed there wasn't even the hint of the former fondness he'd had for him. Lips pressed into an unhappy white line, he chose to drink and not eat.

Sam shrugged, "Didn't ask that, my lord," he muttered softly. Placing his kitten up on his shoulder, Sam tilted his head so the tiny thing could get comfortable and find a place to lay while he ate. Sure, he had to hold his head funny and he couldn't move fast for fear his new pet would fly right off his shoulder, but he was able to lay his head over on him and when he wanted to and that made him smile while he ate. 

Once he had finished eating, Sam sat silently, his head bowed waiting to be excused from the table, not speaking to anyone or anything, his kitten having fallen fast asleep up on his shoulder. 

The entire meal passed, and still Samuel didn't utter a word, other than to respond to his inquiries with one or two word answers. Dean's mood only darkened. Pushing up from the table, he strode away, knowing full well everyone's eyes were on him.

Sam looked up after Dean walked away, his eyes on Peter. "May I be excused, my lord?" Once Sam was given the okay to leave the table he walked in the opposite direction as Dean, taking his kitten and himself up to his room.

* * *

By the end of supper, Dean's patience was nearly at an end. Sam's blatant efforts to ignore him, his refusal to look at him unless absolutely necessary, and his open affections for everyone except himself, from Peter to the lowly swine, was grating on his nerves. When the ballad singers got up to entertain the household as they ate their dessert, he got up and then motioned to Charles to follow.

"Where to?"

"Tavern." Perhaps the ride and change of scenery would calm him before he had to face his innocent again.

Two others joined them, as they rode out of the castle and into the town below.

Peter looked down into his plate. This did not bode well. His gaze landed on Sam, then pulled away. They would have to find a way to make this work, or everyone else would suffer. In truth, it had all seemed to be going well. His Lordship and his innocent had appeared to be well matched, and he'd sensed real affection between them.


	6. Chapter 6

Hours later, a slightly inebriated Dean walked up the spiral stone stairs and made his way to his chambers. The candles were lit, the fire place was roaring, and his innocent was sitting in his bed. "You may escape to your chambers," he said, waving at him with not a little bitterness. 

Sam looked up at him, his kitten held tightly in his lap. "Escape, my lord?" Sam asked him frowning before looking back down at the white fluffball curled in his lap. "I did not realize I was _escaping_ anything," he sighed and licked his lips, before raising his head. "You are," Sam cocked his head to the side frowning, "drunk. Why?"

" _Also_ escaping." Seeing the cat in his bed, he narrowed his gaze but said nothing. Steadying himself, he started to loosen his clothing and hummed a bawdy song that was stuck in his mind, from the tavern. When he looked back at his bed, he raised his eyebrows. "You're still here."

Sam pressed his lips together and gave a nod. "Why are you angry with me?" Sam shook his head, "I have done nothing wrong, I have said nothing wrong. I've barely spoken to you, so," he sighed, "I don't know what I have done to make you displeased with me. It's not the darkness, Peter said you have to go into battle for that to worsen. Peter said it was after that when you would be easier to anger. Peter said that after," Sam paused, looking back down at the cat, "well, that you should be better than you were," he mumbled.

His innocent's words reminded Dean why he was angry. "I told you I enjoy your company, but in return, as you have just said, you choose to _barely speak with me_ , you've ignored me in front of my household, and made it distinctly clear that you don't want anything to do with me. You wish to blame me for... for last night, fine, I'm a brute, I hurt you, now please get out of my bed, we wouldn't want another occurrence." Throwing his boot across the room, he glared at Sam. "And take that damnable creature with you."

"Ignored you!?" Sam asked him, eyes widening, "I did not ignore you! I had nothing to say to you, would you rather I make something up?" he huffed and pulled to his feet, walking toward the door, his kitten in his arms. "Trust me, I would not leave my kitten with someone who is incapable of love," Sam spat at him, eyes narrowed. "At least this _damnable_ creature loves me." 

It was the first time Sam had ever sworn and he had to fight against the instinct to fall to his knees and repent, to say his evening prayers and beg forgiveness for what he had just said. He managed, though his hands and legs trembled. 

"Incapable of..." Unable to wrap his mind around what Sam was saying, Dean shook his head. "Have you imbibed as well? You make no sense." Finishing his struggle with his second boot and sending it flying, Dean crossed the room, cursing again when he hit his foot on a piece of furniture that got in his way. He sat heavily down on the bed and looked at Sam. "I did not think a male could be as prickly as a female. On occasion, I am proven wrong."

Sam clenched his jaw, eyes narrowed as he glared daggers at Dean. He bent at the waist to place his kitten on the floor before straightening and glaring once more at Dean. "You want to know what my dream used to be? Huh? You want to know what I dreamt about since I was twelve years old? I dreamt that _my_ knight would be different, that he would be handsome and funny, sweet and kind that he would be gentle, that he would, " Sam pointed at himself, "LOVE ME!" Sam nodded, "Christiana told me I was a fool," he shook his head as his hand fell to his side, "but I didn't believe her, I thought that maybe, just maybe I would be lucky. I prayed for this more times than I should have. I asked God to give me a knight that would make this thing that we have to do be to each other..." Sam's face twisted as he spat out the word, " _nice_!"

He turned away from Dean walking over to the window. "I asked you what I did when we were," he paused and licked his lips as he gazed out at the moonlit land. "I was going to tell you that if you loved me that no matter how it happened it _would_ be like my dreams, that it was okay. But, you weren't," Sam shook his head, " _aren't_ , able to give me that." He nodded as if agreeing with himself before he turned and walked back over to his kitten and picked it up, not looking at Dean until then. "And you may hate my animals too, but they give me something to love and something that loves me! For what you take from me, I don't think it is a lot to ask!" Sam yelled, reaching for the door as he held his kitten tightly.

"What I _take_ from you," Dean nodded. "I will apologize to you only one more time Samuel. I did not mean to be rough, it wasn't how I _dreamt_ our first time would be. I asked for your help... I..." he was still at a loss, remembering perhaps incorrectly that Sam had egged him on instead of trying to exert the power an innocent could hold over his master. "It matters not. I failed, you walked out. I will refrain from summoning you to my bed for as long as I can. Tavern wenches have taken care of my needs in the past... if it is your preference..." he shrugged, then rubbed his temple. "As for love... you're still standing... so I must." It was unheard of, for anyone of his household to be allowed to speak to him thus.

Sam shook his head, "You don't get it do you?" he sighed and hugged his kitten closer, "I don't want your stupid apology. The only thing I wanted you won't even say. What, you can fight demons and slay evil men, but you can't speak those words?" Sam shook his head, "I was hurt, then I was angry, now I just pity you. It must be horrible not to be able to look at something, some _one_ and say, 'I love you'." He hung his head, shaking it sadly, "Well, I _did_ love you," he looked up at Dean, "for years, before I even knew who you were I loved you, and then after I met you, I loved you even more because you weren't a faceless dream, but now," he shook his head again. "When you need me, call me, I'll do my duties as I should. You can make me _feel_ worthless, but I am not. I was trained better than that," Sam told him, squaring his shoulders.

"You're right, I do not 'get you.' All this," he swept his arm around, "because I did not say 'I love you?' And THAT makes you feel worthless, or are you implying I've committed yet other wrongs? Bah, I am as 'terrible' as the creatures I have fought are 'fearsome,' starting with the fleas." He sniffed, and tried to get comfortable on the bed, though he knew that the one who could offer him comfort was only offering him rebellion at the moment. His jaw pulsed. "I 'think' I love you. I am not certain because I have known you for but a few days, and for most of that time, you have refused to talk to me."

Sam sighed and hung his head before pulling open the door and stepping out to take his kitten to his room. Depositing his kitten inside, Sam closed his door and, walked back into Dean's, closing the door behind himself. Walking over to the bed, he sat at the end, facing Dean. "I am sorry. I have spent all my life waiting for _that_ moment and I got my hopes up," he shrugged a shoulder looking away.

Taking a deep breath he looked back at Dean, "I hear those fleas are pretty fearsome actually." A small smirk pulled at the corner of Sam's lips as he spoke the last bit.

Managing a laugh, Dean watched Sam. Sometimes he thought he could read him like a book and other times, even when he wasn't under the influence of ale and wine, he was at a complete loss as to what went on in his innocent's head. "You're not alone in that. I waited my entire life. You don't believe me? Do you see a wife in waiting?" Surely Sam knew how unusual it was for a man of his years not to be married. He took a breath. "It wasn't what either one of us ... expected or wanted," he nodded, more sad for his innocent than for himself. "I suggest a drink... it drowns the worst of your disappointments." He looked over to where a pitcher of wine sat. "Pour us some."

Sam nodded and pulled from the bed, walking over to the pitcher and pouring two glasses, though neither one did he fill completely, then carried them both back over to the bed, reclaiming his seat as he handed Dean his. "Water wouldn't hurt you any. Christiana assured me long ago that we are _not_ made of sugar so we will not melt from too much water," he mumbled, dropping his gaze to the contents of his cup before taking a sip.

Looking back up at Dean, Sam licked his lips. "Peter says I get to have riding lessons?" Sam asked, catching his bottom lip between his teeth.

"If you wish." He drank the tangy liquid, trying to will himself to focus and at the same time wanting the comfort offered by the wine. "I chose a horse for you. He's," he chuckled, "a lot like you. Your hero, Peter, advised I not mention that." 

Sam smiled wide and shook his head, "You think Peter my hero?" he quirked a brow, before taking another sip and shrugging a shoulder, "Peter makes me laugh," he grinned, "He is _not_ my hero."

Sam pulled his legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and leaned back against the end of the bed, frowning thoughtfully. "Are there," he licked his lips, "chores you have for me to do? Plowing or carrying heavy things, something?" Sam raised a hand to rub the back of his neck. "I am use to doing things, if I sit here like some pampered peacock I'm going to get fat and lazy." He made a face. "Can I build a small stable for my animals?"

"Your animals. What animals?" Dean knocked back more wine, knowing he was not going to like the answer, but asking it just the same. "Cats and dogs don't need to be stabled." Making the mistake of shifting his eyes to Sam's, he winced. There was that look, one he was getting to know too well, the one that made him want to say 'yes' even without knowing the damned question.

Sam licked his lips, "No, but, um," Sam bit his lip as he looked at Dean and took a breath. "Well, there was this elephant, and I just couldn't say no, cause he was hurt and he's so cute, and well, I said that I'd take him but I hadn't really asked you yet, but I thought I could hide it until I smoothed it over with you, but um, your horse doesn't like it," he quickly rambled out, then cleared his throat after, wincing as he looked at Dean. 

"No... no... you don't mean an elephant, elephants live in India, not England..." even as he explained, he remembered the traveling animal show as well as the tales about a crippled baby elephant and felt his heart lurch. "We are not equipped for a... a beast. That thing will grow and grow, and you cannot build a stable large enough... if it even lives in a stable. No, you didn't say elephant... its the drink that is talking," he comforted himself. And then he heard a trumpeting sound and almost dropped his cup.

Sam grimaced as he glanced toward the window then looked back at Dean. "Um, no my lord, _that_ would be an elephant. _My_ elephant," his eyes turned soft and pleading, "if I can keep him, can I?" 

Dean opened his mouth. Then shut it. He gestured wildly, then dropped his hand. He glared at Sam, then relented. "Only until the next animal show travels through town, then we will send it packing."

Sam started to smile, then it grew wider before it was full blown and wide, showing dimples and straight white teeth. "Unless you love him by then, you mean? Cause you can't get rid of him if you love him by then," Sam shrugged, "you just can't." He rolled over to stretch out on the bed on his stomach, smiling up at Dean. "So, I can start building his stable tomorrow," Sam nodded. "I still need to name the cat and Bridgette's pups are due soon I think." Sam frowned, "maybe you better have a little more wine?"

"I'll drink from the pitcher," Dean agreed.

Sam started to chuckle then his chuckle worked it's way into a laugh and a fit of laughter as he rolled over on the bed, neck arched so he could look at Dean upside down through his laughter. 

Dean tried not to laugh, but failed. "You look like your damnable cat." Leaning forward, he playfully tousled Sam's hair, trying not to notice the smooth lines of the column of his neck, nor to remember how he felt and tasted there. Those thoughts would lead him down the primrose path and he did not want a repeat of last night's debacle. "Are you homesick?" he asked, directly. 

Sam let out a few more chuckles before he was able to stifle his laughter enough to speak, "Sometimes," he rolled back over onto his stomach so he could see Dean and not have him be upside down. "I miss Christiana, Jacob, Stephanie," Sam licked his lips and shook his head, "but she had already been claimed a year before me. Jacob left the day before I did, it was just me and Christiana left of our group." He grinned mischievously, "the two worst ones." 

"Maybe I should send commiserations to her knight then." There was a glint in Dean's eyes, as if he was barely restraining his agreement on Sam's assessment of himself. "Keep moving around like that on _my bed_ and I won't be responsible." The words were meant in jest, but recalling the night before, Dean winced and pulled his gaze away. "Maybe you should go to bed. Talk in the morning."

Sam had been smiling, but at his masters last words, frowned in confusion, his gaze dropping to look down at himself. Moving around like what? Sam bit his lip as he raised his gaze to Dean's face once more and nodded. "Alright, my lord," he answered softly, pulling up to his knees and walking on them to cross the distance between himself and Dean before lowering himself. Hands braced against the pillow at each side of Dean's head, Sam leaned down, brushing his lips over Dean's before pulling away. "Good night, Dean."

A sound broke out of Dean, a mixture of surprise and sudden desire as his arms closed around Sam, trapping him before he moved too far. For a long moment, he stared into the boy's startled eyes, then closing his own, moved in and slanted his mouth over Sam's to give him a real kiss. He pushed his tongue inside Sam's mouth, teasing and stroking, tasting him again. He wondered if it was the same for an innocent. Did they crave their knight like their next breath? Allowing himself one last kiss, he slid his mouth across Sam's cheek to his ear. "Good night, Sam."

Sam slowly pulled back, his eyes on Dean's face as he licked his lips. One hand moved from the pillows to cup Dean's cheek as Sam smiled softly around chewing his lip, his thumb rolling over Dean's cheek bone. Sam slowly pulled his hand away and slid off the bed, walking to the door and out, closing it softly behind him.

Stepping into his room, Sam found his kitten curled up on his pillows as he walked over to his bed. He felt better now, having talked to his knight, save for one thing. Would Dean really just go to some wench? Just like that? Pulling the blankets up and his kitten down next to him, Sam cuddled close to the animal as he thought about that. Maybe he needed to get himself back into his master's bed.

*

Dean wiped his thumb over his lips, then licked it. Having an innocent was damned complicated business. Blowing the candle out, he got inside the bed. For a while, he tossed and turned, his mind on his innocent. One moment he blew cold, the next hot. He ignored him, then he talked his ears off. Then he laid a kiss on his lips. Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean rolled to the other side of the bed, 'Samuel's side.' No, things had not turned out just like he'd thought they would, not at all. Hooking one arm around the pillow, he buried his nose in it, in Sam's pillow, and took a deep breath.

* * *

When daylight was just about to dawn, Dean came awake with a plan already formulated in his mind. He wanted his innocent in his bed, willing, unafraid and for always. He wanted Samuel to give himself over not because it was right, or it was fated or expected of him, or because of some dream he had kept in his heart. He wanted Samuel to _want him_ with the same desire the knight had for his innocent. 

Dressing himself, he walked to the door connecting his room to Samuel's. At the sight of the youth in the great bed, with a white furball curled on his pillow above his head, Dean rolled his eyes. His castle was _not_ going to be turned into a zoo. But the way his gaze lingered on Sam's face, the way his face softened in the same manner that Sam's did when he held the damnable cat, anyone watching would doubt his ability to refuse his innocent's requests.

Quietly, he approached the bed and sat down. He knew that Sam was used to rising early, but he was unused to wine and he'd plied him with some last evening. He whispered Sam's name, and seeing no reaction, started to touch him. First, he ran his finger back and forth over his lips, biting his own when Sam's parted and made Dean want to thrust his tongue into the sweet heat of his innocent's mouth. Slowly, he pulled the sheets down and touched Sam's chest, trailing his fingers until he reached his brais. A smile spread over his face at the fact he hadn't yet been able to convince Sam to go to bed without any clothes of his own accord.

Dean lightly cupped Sam's cock, applying a little pressure, squeezing his hand to mold it to Sam's form. He started to move very slowly, his own cock surging as he brought his innocent to arousal. His gaze moved to Sam's face, even as he continued to touch, to stroke and squeeze, noticing the shallower breaths coming from the boy. The temptation to touch him under his brais was irresistible, so he pulled his hand away and inserted it from the opening at Sam's thigh. As his hand closed around the boys hard flesh, a groan welled up in the back of his throat. And then his innocent started to move his hips, and Dean was drawn into a web of lust that almost made him forget his plan.

His breaths started to come harsher as Sam's cock wept into his palm, and he spread the liquid. Sweet Jesu.... he was going to come if he didn't leave the room now. Exerting his iron will, Dean pulled away and taking one last look at his innocent, forced his legs to carry him away.

Sam frowned in his sleep, the feelings, the ghost touches were gone and he wanted more, _needed_ more. His hips arched upward into nothingness, searching for that hand, the phantom one that had been touching him in his dreams. It had felt so good, so right, so... _perfect_. A soft whimper sounded in Sam's throat as his head rolled on the pillow. The only touch he received for all his want, his efforts and need for his phantom lover to come back, to keep going, to do it more, was a rough tiny tongue licking at his creased brow.

Sam's eyes popped open as his breaths hitched in his throat, his head rising up off the pillows as his gaze darted about his room. Empty. He was alone, and yet...

Sam looked down at himself, at his obviously tenting brais, his cock aching, full and heavy between his legs. With a groan Sam rolled over onto his side, his hands tucked between his legs as he pulled them up and cupped his aching erection. Slowly pulling one hand away from himself, his other still cupping himself hard, Sam ran a hand over his face, blinking rapidly to try and clear his lust fogged head. Well this was a new way to wake up, to dream about _his knight_. His face twisted in a frown, Sam used his free hand to push himself up into a sitting position, hissing in a breath as he did.

He definitely needed to go relieve himself, maybe that would help with the aching arousal, at the very least he could start thinking about something else other than the touch of that phantom hand in his dreams. Rolling his eyes at himself, Sam reached for his breeches. Oh God, he hoped he didn't see anyone on his way to relieve himself, he'd be the shade of a tomato for the rest of his life if he did.

Finally Sam dressed and relieved himself, splashed enough cold water on his face that it was a wonder he didn't have ice-cicles hanging off the end of his nose, before he went downstairs to the the dining hall and sat down next to Dean who was breaking his fast. Sam definitely felt better now, save for the times that Dean's hand would wander to his thigh, squeezing and rubbing, much the way that phantom hand had his shaft in his dreams. In those moments Sam would freeze up, hang his head and try _not_ to get another raging hard on right there in front of everyone.

For once, Dean did not mind his innocent's silence or slow responses to questions. He himself might have trouble speaking if Sam's hand touched him the way he was touching his Samuel. He spoke with Peter about the cases that would be brought before him later in the day, decisions he would have to make as to what one peasant owed the other for accidentally killing a hen, while slipping his palm casually up and down Sam's thigh.

On occasion, he would move to Sam's inner thigh, feel his muscles tense, know that if others weren't around Sam would have something to say about this. But acting as if this was normal, Dean kept stroking in circles, moving closer to Sam's cock, occasionally allowing a finger to brush against him. When Peter made him laugh, his fingers bit into Sam's thigh, and he turned to his innocent. "You don't appear amused by Peter's jests this morn."

Sam slowly raised his head, his eyes darting from Dean to Peter and back before he licked his lips, "I- I'm not." He swallowed, "My mind is elsewhere," he nodded, "I didn't sleep well. Dreams..." he cleared his throat and tore his gaze away from Dean's.

His cock was twitching in his breeches at every brush of Dean's hand, his breaths catching every time Dean squeezed his thigh and yet Dean expected him to be able to laugh and jest with others as if nothing was happening under the table? As if he wouldn't be unable to stand up were the action asked of him, at least not without embarrassing himself ? Sam hung his head, eyes closing as he let out a soft shuddering breath.

"Ah... dreams, I hope they were good." Leaning in, he kissed the corner of Sam's mouth, his tongue barely making contact with Sam's lip, before he turned back and discussed castle business again. He was relentless, allowing Sam a few moments of peace, and then touching him again, making him tense and squirm. It was not as if Dean himself was unaffected, but he was able to control his own reactions and act as if he wasn't burning for his innocent, wasn't imagining himself pulling Sam onto his lap, grinding against him, and laying him on the table as he claimed him a second time.

By the time the meal was over, Dean noticed Sam had not eaten much. Getting up, he stood next to his innocent, leaning in so that his body pressed against Sam's side, and his ever ready arousal made its presence known. Petting Sam's head, running his fingers through his hair, he spoke. "You have hardly eaten. If you're certain nothing is wrong, you might want to come to the practice yard to watch." Smiling, he turned and walked away.

Grabbing handfuls of food once his master walked away, Sam rose to his feet, biting into his bread and cheese as he walked. Eating around his master was obviously going to be an impossible act today, so when he had a few moments away from those touches that were getting to him, making him hard with want and wishing that it were bath time instead of the start of the day, Sam ate quickly, licking his fingers. Once he was done, he walked outside to watch the knights practice.

Dean disappeared around the side of a small structure and Sam leaned, almost bored, against one of the wooden pillars of the fencing around the practice area, squinting into the sun as he awaited for master to walk back out. At first, Sam watched as Charles and Peter squared off, their swords clashing, the sound of metal striking against metal filling the air. Att the end of their match, that was when Sam saw his master again.

Dean walked out onto the yard without his tunic on, the sun shining down on his flesh. Images of Dean's bared flesh as they lay together in bed, flashed through Sam's mind, making him shift his weight from one foot to the other as he clenched his jaw, arms crossed over his chest. As Dean fought against both of the other knights, the three of them working up a sweat, it was Dean who Sam's gaze was riveted to. The sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his muscles rippled with each movement of his sword, or body, the grace with which he moved, attacking or defending. Sam found himself biting his lip, without even realizing he had the habit, until he nearly broke skin. His hands curled into tight fists, arms still crossed in front of him.

As Dean beat the other knights back, he knew he would do a lot better, have a decisive victory sooner, if not for the fact his mind was on the boy leaning against the post and watching. He could feel his gaze even when he couldn't see Sam, feel the heat between them, and knew without a doubt that his little innocent was still feeling the effects of his morning attention and didn't know enough to help himself. 

He fought hard, to impress Sam, though he pretended not to notice him at all. Other knights gathered, shouting encouragements and yet another entered the practice yard to take up a position against Dean. That, he hadn't anticipated. No doubt Peter or Charles had called him. Suddenly, he put all of his effort into the fight, determined to best them and show his innocent that he was worthy of his love and trust.

Shouts erupted around them, but he barely heard them, stopping only when the others called his victory. Tossing the practice sword down so it plunged into the ground and stood with its hilt up, he grabbed a cloth and wiped himself off as he walked over to Sam. "I've vanquished three worms today, do I not deserve a prize?" he asked, his gaze deliberately dropping to Sam's mouth.

Sam quirked a brow. "So you have graduated to worms, my lord? Must be that my presence _does_ agree with you, having gone from insects to worms." A teasing grin pulling at the corners of his lips before he licked them and leaned in, his lips near Dean's. "What prize exactly did my lord wish?" Sam softlyasked.

"If I told you that I wish to have you naked and on my lap, and the things I want to do with you... you might faint. I'll settled for this," Dean answered, sliding his mouth over Sam's and putting his hand possessively over his ass and kissing him soundly, but breaking off even as he felt his innocent try to push his tongue into his mouth. Still holding him close, he spoke. "You know how you rode in front of me on my horse?"

Sam swallowed hard as he nodded, his eyes slowly lowering to mere slits. Yeah, he remembered riding in front of him on the horse. Sam's mind went to what Dean had done to him on the bed and added it to the memory of riding the horse. Yeah, he got the point.

He allowed the image to take hold in Sam's mind, having no doubt that now that his innocent was not-so-innocent, it would lead to lewd thoughts. "Well, you won't have to again after your riding lessons. Be at the stables in an hour."

Sam's eyes popped open, his lips parted. _What -? But, you said -? But-?_ Sam cleared his throat. "Y - yes, my lord."

"Are you sure you're alright? Maybe you've had too much sun." Holding him flush against his body, Dean lightly ground his hips against Sam's. He lowered his mouth to kiss Sam, when he saw a servant bring out a large bucket of water and pulled away. "Stables... don't be late."

Sam's breath hitched and a soft groan worked out of him as Dean ground his hips lightly against him, his breaths coming faster, the dull ache in his groin worsening. Sam licked his lips a soft whine nearly tearing from his throat though he managed to swallow it, as Dean pulled away.

Walking to the bucked, Dean dipped the cloth he'd been wiping himself witht, then held the wet rag up over him, wringing it. Water poured down his face and chest. He repeated to wet his back, then shaking his head to get rid of the water droplets, he walked toward the armory, skirting the other knights that were sparring or sword fighting.

Sam watched Dean as he stood there wetting his body with the water from the bucket, watched the drops of water cascade over his skin and bit his lip to keep from either groaning or saying something stupid. As Dean walked away Sam thought seriously of taking the entire bucking and dumping it over his own head, but didn't, instead raising a hand to run down his face as he let out a soft sigh. Was the day over yet?

* * *

Dean was a bit late coming to the stables, but he spotted Sam leaning forward, arms stretched out on either side of his body in a 'T' across the top of the railing that separated him from his horse, his palms flat against it. Grinning, he walked up behind Sam, put his arms one either side of Sam's body and gripped the rail, trapping Sam against it. Resting his chin on Sam's shoulder, he asked, "isn't he beautiful? I thought about you the instant I saw him." 

Sam stilled, his body going rigid the moment Dean pressed up against him, his breaths hitching. Sam swallowed. "Because I eat grass and whinny?" he tried to make a joke to get his mind off the way his body kept responding to things it shouldn't. What was wrong with him today?

"I'd like to hear you whinny," Dean chuckled, nuzzling his throat. "Did you wash with honey? Smell good," he muttered, sucking his ear lobe into his mouth.

Sam gasped in a breath softly a low moan tearing from his throat, his eyes closing, his cock twitching in his breeches. "Mmm... honey?" he asked, not opening his eyes, his hands slowly curling into fists on the fence. Sam's breaths pant out softly through parted lips as he waited for an answer, another touch, for his knight to take this ache away.

"Did you wash with honey," Dean repeated, stabbing his tongue inside Sam's ear, then around its shell. He could feel Sam pressing back, heard the sounds he made, loved them. "Hmm? Honey? Drizzle it on you and rub everywhere, did you do that, Sammy?" He was getting hard at the though of Sam glistening gold and sticky with honey. "Wish I'd been there, I'd have licked some off you. I love honey."

Sam groaned and shook his head, "No, no honey," _but I could_ A soft mewling sound broke from his throat as he pressed back against Dean harder, breath gasping out from between parted lips. "W-why," Sam frowned, brow creasing, unable to think, "did you ask me that?"

"Told you already, aren't you paying attention?" He whispered, "you smell good. Closing one arm around Sam, he pressed his palm into Sam's belly and started to talk about the fine points of the horse, how to select one, and why the one he'd selected was perfect. All the while, he moved rhythmically against his innocent, very small movements of his body, grinding into Sam's ass, his hand moving in circles, his breath and lips skimming Sam's sensitive areas, his throat, his ears, the corner of his lip. "Do you like it?"

Sam swallowed nodding vigorously, "Mmm, yeah, oh yeah... don't stop.... please," he answered breathlessly, nearly writhing in Dean's arms, breaths panting out, unable to think of anything but the way his masters body felt against his, and the sweet torturous ache between his legs.

"The horse Sam... do you like him? What shall we call him, hmmm?" The way his innocent was moving, Dean almost gave up on his plan. Instead of waiting for Sam to ask to be bedded, he was very close to carrying him on his shoulder, taking him upstairs and having his way. His breaths were starting to come out in harsh gasps and he needed to break off now.

Sam slowly opened his eyes. "Hmm? Horse?" he blinked several times at the animal as if he hadn't even noticed it there before, as if he hadn't just been standing there talking to it and petting it moments before Dean had walked up. "Uh," Sam shook his head, his mind a total blank. Slowly he raised a hand to his forehead, pressing his lips together and frowning, "I, uh, I don't think I feel very good. Maybe I need to go lay down," Sam mumbled softly.

"You don't want to ride me?" He cleared his throat and pulled away. "Ride _with_ me, I mean? Alright, go take a rest, we can do it tomorrow."

Sam's breath hitched before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth and nodded. Yeah, he needed to lay down. Take a nap maybe, cool off? It was hot out today. Sam wasn't sure, but he needed 'something'. _Well, one damn thing I need is the stupid ACHE IN MY GROIN TO GO AWAY! Aaugh!_

Turning Sam around in his arms, Dean ran his fingers over his ass, up and down, moving his mouth back and forth across Sam's then kissing him lightly. "Dream of me." Then he released him and stepped back, finally giving him room.

Sam exhaled a breath and gave a small nod, clenching his jaw as he turned and started walking back toward the entrance to the castle, fighting the need to reach down and cup his aching groin as he went.

Reaching his room, Sam closed the door and leaned back against it with a sigh before pulling away and starting to undress. Too hot. He had gotten too hot and then his strange dreams, well, he hadn't slept well. That was what it was, all it was. At least that was what Sam told himself as he nearly tore his clothes off before flinging himself face first down on the bed in nothing but his brais. His lips curved into a small smile. The cool bed linens felt good against his skin and the sun was no longer beating down on him. Yeah, this was better, this was much better. Closing his eyes, Sam started to relax as he lay there.

Soon thoughts of his phantom knight's touches and what Dean had been doing all day started to fill his mind, making his groin ache again, maybe worse than before, Sam turned his head on the pillow, lips parted as his breaths panted out, hands grasping at the bed sheets, his hips started to grind down against the bed, seeking friction, pressure, something to take away the ache, ease the heavy swell of his cock. Sam moaned, biting his lip as he breathed heavily, his hips grinding harder, thrusting against the bed.

When Dean walked through his room and looked in on Sam through the adjoining door, his heart almost stopped. The sight of his innocent, asleep or half asleep, ass moving up and down as he rutted against the bed was almost too much to bear. The sounds he made, his expression, the urgency of his motions ... Dean knew his innocent was suffering. He whispered Sam's name, and when Samuel didn't answer, he walked to him.

Sitting on the bed, he shoved his hand under Sam's stomach, groaning as Sam started to thrust into his palm. Waves of heat went through Dean each time his innocent moved and ground himself into his hand. He pulled his hand away, watched as Sam searched, complained in soft mewling sounds, and then gave him his hand again. 

Sam gasped and thrust harder into the warmth that was suddenly there under him. In his mind it was his knight, they were in the tub and he was rutting up against him once again. Sam's lips were parted, his tongue darted out to moisten them the tip running along his bottom lip as a long groan left him, followed by a needful small cry as he ground into the warmth harder. "Please..." the word was small and breathlessly whispered, Sam's cheeks flushed a soft pink.

Closing his fist around Sam's hard cock, Dean pumped him a few times, but each time Sam tried to find a rhythm, he stopped, or pulled away, heat coiling low in his stomach as he witnessed his innocent's growing frustration. He should feel guilty about this, he should. But all he knew was that he wanted Sam to come to him, to ask him for what he needed, what they both needed. _You like this so much, why can't you ask me? Why?_

When the warmth closed around his aching shaft again, Sam nearly bucked half off the bed, his breaths gasping in and out as he tried to shove his cock harder into that warmth, to get more friction, a rhythm, to end this ache and find release, only to continue to be denied. Soft sounds of frustration left his lips, sounded in his throat, brow furrowed. Sam's tongue darted out, the tip barely visible past his lips as in his dreams he kissed and arched, bucked and rutted against Dean. _Oh God, so good, so good.... please, my lord, please help me...._ Sam gave a long loud whine full of need and frustration, his face contorting in a deep frown.

It was only then that he felt the bed shake, no, it was him that was _being_ shaken. Sam's eyes popped open and he quickly rolled all the way onto his stomach, hiding his erection, before turning his head to look up at Dean. Swallowing hard, Sam choked out, "My lord?"

"You've been asleep a while. It's time for supper." Wearing his most innocent look, he touched Sam's forehead with his hand, then with his lips. "Mmmm a little warm," he pulled back, "a bit flushed, as if you've been exerting yourself. Do you want me to have your super brought up to you?"

Sam's eyes widened slightly as he shook his head. "No!" it was an automatic response before he thought about his answer. He started to move, but the ache between his legs had him stifling a groan, his eyes squeezing shut. Sam swallowed and licked his lips before he opened his eyes. "Yeah.... maybe.... I don't know." He bit his lip as he looked up at Dean. "M - maybe I better eat here, I guess." His face slowly fell into a frown before he squeezed his eyes closed again, a small whimper leaving him despite his best efforts to keep it in.

Dean frowned and touched his forehead again. "No, I don't want you out of my sight until I'm sure you are alright. I'll help you dress. If it gets worse, I'll bring the healer myself." Getting up off the bed, he went to get Sam's clothes, not giving the youth any choice in the matter. 

Sam's eyes widened as he sat up in the bed, knees pressed tightly together. _Help me dress!?_ Sam bit his lip, tried to bite it hard enough for it to hurt so badly that his mind would have something else to think about. As Dean turned to get his clothes, Sam's hand quickly went between his legs as he pressed down on is erect member, stifling a loud groan as he rolled his eyes at his body. _Come on, come on, go down, go down._ Dean turned back and Sam quickly yanked his hand out from between his legs. _Crap!_

As he helped Sam with his under tunic and over tunic, Dean made sure to touch him as much as possible, smoothing the material down over the contours of Sam's body. When Sam pulled his breeches on, he took over the task of securing the stays, ghosting his hand over the outline of Sam's clearly visible shaft. "This usually happens in the mornings," he noted, grinning. 

Sam frowned softly, hanging his head shyly. _Yes, my lord. Wouldn't go away today. I blame you and that dream knight._ Sam took a deep breath and tried to focus on something, anything else as Dean finished helping him prepare for dinner. 

He put his hand out for Samuel, and as they walked down the hall to the stairs, he rubbed his thumb suggestively inside Sam's palm. He stopped as they descended the stairs, but did it again as they headed for the dining hall.

As soon as his master's thumb began to make small circle patterns on his palm, warmth seemed to spiral through Sam's system settling down in his cock once more. Sam bit his lip, frowning as he sucked in a shuddering breath, though he fought to remain quiet, not wanting Dean to know what was happening to him.

They sat at the dinner table, and Dean made sure Sam ate despite the ongoing sensual torture that his innocent probably did not even understand. He sat close, touched him at every opportunity, whispered hotly in his ear, and used suggestive language whenever he could work it into the conversation. Peter and Charles, and a number of others tried to entice Sam into conversation, but Dean wore a smug smile as his innocent stuttered, and gave half answers or was so distracted, he never heard the questions.

After the meal was cleared up, Dean motioned for the entertainers. He'd already told them what he wanted. As they plucked their lute strings and sang verses like his innocent had never heard, Dean surreptitiously watched Samuel.

__

_If all the young laddies were fine silks and laces_

_And I were an iron, I'd sit on their faces_

_I wish all the laddies were like pipes in the yard,_

_After I drained them they'd still remain hard._

_If all the young laddies were coconuts sweet_

_I'd suck out their juices and chew on their meat_

_If all the young laddies were merry go rounds_

_I'd mount up and we'd go up and down_

 

Loud laughter followed each verse, and Dean merely smiled when Peter was kind enough to interpret for Sam the meaning of the various phrases usually sung by bawdy women. 

Sam's face had gotten a soft pink tinge with what he had _thought_ the song might be about, now that Peter had cleared up any misconceptions or misunderstandings, Sam's face was as red as a beet, his head hanging, though his groin was aching at the thoughts planted there by the song. The idea of doing those things seemed to only make the ache between his legs worse, not appall him as it use to, as it _should_.

 

__

_If laddies were washcloths with soap in my tub,_

_I’d lather all over and have a good scrub._

_If all the young laddies were fire that scorches,_

_I’d be the flame and would heat up their torches._

_To all the young laddies here's a word to the wise,_

_Everyone loves tickling but what matters is size._

_If all the young laddies were milk in a cup_

_And I were a kitten, I’d lick them all up_

_If laddies were knights in search of romances_

_I’d bed the ones with the longest lances_

 

Dean leaned over and whispered into Sam's ear, "you've already got the knight with the longest lance. I wouldn't lie about a thing like that, would I?" He skimmed his mouth over Sam's throat just when they started a ballad, that was even more graphic. 

Sam's breath hitched a low sound somewhere between a moan and a whimper leaving him though it was soft, only loud enough that Dean would have been able to hear it. His brow furrowed, eyes slipping closed for a moment before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth. Opening his eyes, he tried to concentrate on something other than his body and the things he was feeling.

Listening to the words of the ballad, Dean's mind filled with images of hands slipping between thighs, and kisses pressed in places one should not speak about. Occasionally, he'd mutter a, "we've done that."

Sam swallowed, tried not to react as the images, the memories that would flash in his mind each time Dean said they had done this thing or that. He tried to sit forward, but that didn't help, leaning to one side or the other made no difference and leaning back was just not an option, his obvious erection staining his cheeks with embarrassment. Sam twisted his hands in his lap, head hanging as he worried his lip, wanting nothing more than to be excused to go to his room, to be excused from sitting there in front of everyone with his groin aching and his head spinning.

"Are you tired?" Dean gave him a loving smile. "Why don't you go on up and bathe, it will relax you. Use the honey soap," he gave Sam a meaningful look, and kissed him on the lips. 

Sam licked his lips and nodded, head still hanging for a moment before he looked up at Dean. _Honey soap._ Sam swallowed, nodding as his cock twitched in his breeches. For a few moments after the kiss, Sam sat there trying to get his mind working right so he wouldn't just fall over when he got up or start rutting against the wall or something else equally embarrassing. Finally, Sam gave a small nod and pulled, albeit a bit clumsily, to his feet and headed for the stairs.

Upstairs, Sam waited for the tub to be filled before going into the adjoining room, stripping out of his clothes as he went, leaving a trail behind him, his eyes on the water as images of himself and Dean in the tub danced before his eyes, his hard cock bobbing between his legs as he walked.

Getting into the warm water, Sam sighed as he leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes, willing his body to stop with the aching already. Reaching for the honey soap, Sam washed his body, not once, but twice, his hands lingering in places that the monks would have his ass for if they knew, low moans tearing from deep in his throat at the slip slide of soapy hands against his skin, his cock, balls and ass. 

His breaths coming faster, Sam managed to pull himself out of his lust induced stupor enough to rinse and get out of the tub, drying himself quickly. He was just on his way back into his lordship's room, when he heard the servants talking about the knights leaving for the tavern.

Sam frowned as he hid behind the door, waiting for them to leave as they laid out clean bedclothes for him across Dean's bed.

Once they were gone, Sam stepped into the bedroom, snatching up the bed clothes in one hand as he spun on his heel, sitting down on the bed, head hanging. _I can have my needs met with wenches if you prefer..._ Dean's words echoed in Sam's mind as his face twisted into an anguished frown. "But, I didn't prefer...." Sam muttered with a sigh as he let himself fall back onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Jealousy bloomed, hot and raw in Sam's gut at the images in his mind of Dean doing things with some tavern wench, of him kissing her and _touching_ her the way he _should_ be touching him.

"He's _mine_ , dammit!" Sam pouted, swearing for the second time ever.

With a huff, Sam rolled over, crawling onto the bed, over to his side as he tossed his bed clothes away. Fine, Dean was going to be with someone else, so would he! He would conjure up his phantom knight in his mind, let his phantom knight touch him and do the things to him that should only be Dean's to do.

Flopping back against the pillows on his back, a pouting frown on his face, Sam closed his eyes. Slowly, very slowly, his frown started to melt away, as he thought of the knight from so long ago, the shadowy image that he had dreamt up as a young boy, though back then he hadn't known what his dream knight should _do_ with him, now he did. He thought about his knight touching him and kissing him, about him caressing his flesh, trailing kisses down his body.

Sam's hand moved from the bed to his chest, slowly slipping downward, slowly, so slowly, like his knight would do his full lips, trailing across his body. Sam's opposite hand rose to slid down his side, the heel of his hand pressing hard as he slid it downward, fingertips curling around his thigh to spread his legs apart, as if it were other hands doing it, and not his own.

A soft gasp left Sam's lips as his neck arch, his cock growing impossibly harder as his other hand, the one that represented the knights lips moved downward, finger tips dancing along the length of his cock. Sam hissed in a breath through his teeth a small whimper leaving him as he pressed his lips together, back arching just slightly.

"Oh God, yes... please... more..." Sam whispered softly into the empty room.

In his mind, his knight moved upward, his lips teasing Sam's. Tilting his head back more Sam panted out his breaths, one hand circling around his cock, starting to pump slowly. "Yes... yes... I need you..." Sam gasped and strained, writhing on the bed.

Cupping his balls, Sam's back arched off the bed, a loud gasp leaving him, lips parted, his tongue darted out, the tip held out in the air just a bit as he pictured his knight tangling his around it, kissing him deeply. Sam's breaths panted harder, pre-cum pearling at the tip of his cock.

*

He'd gone into the adjoining bathchamber first, and saw that the tub was filled with now cooling water, but Samuel wasn't there. Moving to the door to his own chamber, he'd been prepared to go to Samuel's when he saw the youth on his bed, naked, writhing, and speaking out loud to an imaginary person, just the way Dean wanted him to talk when they made love. He wanted to hear 'yes please' instead of a flat voice telling him to get it over with, he wanted to hear 'more' ... wanted Sam to pull at him, want him, instead of deserting his bed the instant they were done. Now Sam was showering such affections on a phantom.

Silently, Dean dropped down into a chair near the door, leaned back and watched through slitted eyes. As his innocent's unpracticed hand pumped, and sounds broke from his throat, Dean's already raging erection became almost painful. He quickly freed his cock from his breeches and started to pleasure himself, moving to the same rhythm as Sam, but needing to go faster. He wished it was Sam's hand on him, riding his cock, letting him touch Sam the same way. He wanted it so bad, he almost groaned out loud. _Samuel, need you so fucking bad it would scare you._

Sam's head turned to the side, breaths panting through parted lips as his hand continued to pump his aching cock. "Mmm... please..." Sam head turned back the opposite way as the hand at his balls squeezed slightly and Sam gasped in a breath, "Oh my God!" His body writhed against the bed, hips thrusting upward pushing his cock into his fisted hand. "Please... want more... _need_ more..." Sam's neck arched, lips parted. "K -kiss me, rut against me... please..." Sam gasped and moaned, soft mewls and hard pants leaving him.

Only his iron will kept Dean from making sounds. It was heaven and hell, fucking his fist to the vision of his innocent doing the same, and trying not to breathe too loud, not to squirm so the chair wouldn't make noise, not to let out the groans welling up in his throat. His fist was wet with pre-cum, making his hand glide faster, harder. If only his tongue were thrusting into Samuel's sweet mouth, he could ask no more than that.

Sam was so hard, his cock a deep red, pre-cum oozing down from the tip. Sam's legs moved, sliding up, bending at the knee, then down straight as he squirmed, pressed his lips together, before his lips parted again, brow furrowing as he pleaded with the image in his head to help him, relieve the ache, to show him the way. "Kiss me again...." a small whimper tore from Sam's throat, "please..." his lips parted, tongue darting out.

"It better be ME you are seeing." He was _not_ jealous of a phantom lover. And yet, his own bark surprised Dean, though he did not stop stroking himself. He could not.

Sam gasped loudly as his eyes opened wide, moving quickly to grab the bed linens to cover himself with, he leaned up on an elbow. Lips parted, Sam's breaths panting heavily out, cheeks flushed with desire, he gazed wide eyed at Dean, his eyes roaming over his master. "W-what are you doing here!?" Sam licked his lips, his gaze darting toward the door, before looking back at Dean. "How - how long have you been here? I thought you were," Sam frowned, "out."

Managing a wolfish grin, Dean continued stroking himself. "Doing the same thing you are... only I wasn't imagining anyone, I have a clear view." A wave of heat crashed over him, and he bit his lower lip, finally allowing himself to groan out loud. "Sam... please don't stop. Please love."

 

(okay - pure pimping time. is kindly letting me run or co-run with her . It just happened so plans are in the works, and we'll be off and running this weekend. Please take a look at the profile and consider posting holiday art or fic, or participating as readers. There is also a raffle *nods*... that might be a good incentive. I may come begging ... *Hugs*)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

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Sam's frown slowly melted away, biting his lips Sam began easing back onto the bed, pushing the linens away from himself. Laying on his back, Sam stared at the ceiling for a second before he closed his eyes, one hand slowly moving back to his aching erection, fingers curling around his length. Slowly Sam's hand started to move again, his lips parting as he panted his breaths, head rolling on the pillow.

Slowly sliding his other hand down again, he pulled at his thigh, spreading his legs, breaths hitching as his head rose up off the pillow. Cupping his balls, Sam gasped, his head falling back, neck arching. "Oh God...." Sam's hips thrust his cock into his fisted hand. After a moment, Sam shook his head, "Nnn - no. I - I can't do this with you here," he told Dean, slowly opening his eyes to mere slits as he looked at him, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "C - Come touch me, please?" he asked softly.

He'd been close, so close to coming, when Sam stopped. Dean had tasted disappointment, but knew he couldn't stop, that he'd stroke himself to completion. Then Sam spoke to him, pleaded with him the way he'd hoped he someday would. It wasn't just Dean's cock that surged at that, but his heart lurched. 

Sucking in a lungful of air, Dean pushed off the chair, quickly peeled off his tunic and got onto the bed, parallel to Sam, on his side. Reaching out, he pushed Sam's hand out of the way, and closed his fingers around his hard cock, running his thumb gently over its head. "You too... touch me," he said, looking down at his erection and using his free hand to pull his breeches down lower.

Sam gasped out a breath, biting his lip and nodding as he rolled onto his side, reaching a hand out to wrap around Dean's erection and slowly starting to pump him. A low groan tore from Sam's lips as his eyes fluttered closed, lip caught between his teeth. Sam's hips bucked his hard length into Dean's fisted hand as his eyes slowly fluttered open. "Please... need..." he shook his head, "more."

Sam arched against Dean, lips parting. "Kiss me," Sam told him, a soft whimpered whine leaving him, his warm breaths panting out between his parted lip as he looked up at Dean through lowered lids. Sam squirmed, trying to find what he needed, the friction, the stimulation to end the ache between his legs. His neck arched a deep groan leaving him. "Pleeeease..."

He maybe should have been, but Dean wasn't sorry for fiddling with his innocent from morning until night. If this was the result, his Sam needy and begging and willing to experiment, he wasn't sorry at all. "Anything you want," he answered thickly, carefully stroking his shaft, giving him a little more pressure, loving how responsive he was, how he thrust into his fist. "Slower... so it lasts," he said, biting his lip as Sam stroked him so fast he had to fight to maintain control. He stuck his tongue out and traced Sam's lips, teasing him, making him open his mouth several times only to refuse to dip his tongue inside. "Play with me," he demanded, keeping his tongue just a half inch from Sam's lips.

Sam gulped in breaths, writhing and thrusting his hips, nearly whining, his brow creased. He tried to lift his head from the pillows, to chase after Dean's tongue, only to have him pull it away, making Sam whimper in frustration. "P - please...." Sam begged, his hand on Dean's cock squeezing rhythmically, no longer pumping, just squeezing over and over and over again as Sam bucked his hips and tried to get Dean's hand to move faster on his own aching cock. Sam's body shuddered, his head raising off the pillows slightly, muscles tense, before his head fell back again, lips parting and pressing together, before Sam grit his teeth. "Uugh! I can't take it anymore!" his neck arched, free hand gripping the bed linens in a tight fist.

He relented. Rolling closer, Dean covered Sam's upper body with his, plastering his mouth over Sam's and pushing his tongue inside. There was no gentleness in his touch, it was clear Sam was past the point of wanting a slow build up. His lust had been building up all day, and he needed release... he wasn't used to this state. Maybe he now had an inkling of what knights such as himself went through, how needy they could be. "Right here," he crooned, pushing his tongue in a second time, tangling it with Sam's, engaging him in a heated battle. 

Good, so good... but not enough. He needed more, needed, _something_. Sam's hand left the bed and reached for Dean, holding onto him, pulling him closer. He couldn't think anymore, his hand on Dean's cock stopped moving all together after a few minutes, unable to concentrate enough to make it move, to tell it what to do. His entire world had shrunk down to just the feelings Dean was creating, the ache in his groin the need that clawed at him.

The murmurs and sounds Sam made were so beautiful to his ears. He started to stroke Sam harder, faster, opening his own thighs and gripping Sam's leg between his when his lover was no longer in any state to keep working him up. He tongue fucked his innocent, giving no quarter, like he was a tavern pro, milking his rock hard cock, fucking into him. His own groans filled the air around them, crescendoed as the darkness within him reached for Sam's light and was engulfed by flames like a moth drawn to fire. 

Sam couldn't keep up after a while and simply held his mouth open, moaning into Dean's, letting him do as he wanted and needing him to, wanting him to with everything in him. Sam gasped, arched and strained against Dean. "Mmm - more... please..." Sam's head thrashed, his hips thrusting up so hard he was nearly arching with each thrust into Dean's hand. Sam couldn't focus his eyes, his thoughts, could barely gulp in enough air it seemed. Pupils lust blown, eyes glazed, his cheeks stained crimson with his passion. He felt like he was on fire, burning up from the inside, the bed linens were too much against his sensitive flesh, nearly hurt to move against them.

Sam whimpered and groaned, as he bucked his hips and clung to Dean as tightly as he could. "I can't - can't..." Sam pressed his lips together, neck arching back. "Nnaahh!" his head thrashed, as he grit his teeth.

"You're coming... you're coming, that's all," Dean crooned, watching intently as Samuel came apart. He held him closer as his innocent shuddered and bucked, moving desperately as he reached for release. "That's it... that's it..." At the first rope of come that shot out of Sam's cock, Dean moved so his cock was covered with Sam's come, used it as lubricant as he started to move his fist over his own firm flesh, squeezing Sam with one hand, and stroking himself, until he too was shouting his release. "Fuck... ah... fuck, Sammy!"

 

Sam lay gulping in breaths, his body feeling boneless, lids heavy as he looked at Dean, watched him as he slowly wound down from his orgasm. Sam licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Been feeling that all day," he said, voice breathless, and fucked out. Sam exhaled a puff of air and opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He cleared his throat and shook his head slightly, "I - I thought you went out." 

 

His chest heaved. Dean rolled on his back, but his face toward Sam as he wiped his hand on his breeches. "What gave you that idea? I asked you to use the honey soap for me. Meant to... smell you." He grinned. "Feeling like what all day?"

 

Sam frowned and shook his head as he thought about the conversation he had overheard. Turning his head he looked over at Dean and blushed, his eyes lowering as he licked his lips. "Aching... between my legs. I -" Sam shook his head before turning it, looking back up at the ceiling. "Nothing - nevermind." he mumbled softly, his blush growing steadily darker.

 

"For me?" He cupped Sam's face and turned it toward himself. "Aching for me, or just... aching?"

 

Sam opened his mouth and closed it again. Well, he _was_ going to say for Dean, but that wasn't totally true. It had started with that dream... and he'd been alone in his room then... Sam bit his lip as his gaze fell from Dean's face. He shook his head, not looking up. "I -" Sam pressed his lips into a thin line and swallowed hard before looking back at Dean, "Don't - don't be angry, please, I didn't mean to," he chewed his lip, "it wasn't my fault, I was asleep, but..." Sam lowered his gaze again. "I was _touched_ in my dreams and that's when it started," he mumbled softly.

 

"Who touched you... in that Dream?" The answer could have been more pleasing, but Dean wasn't going to make his mind up until Sam was able to tell him everything. "Do you remember? Whose face?" Seeing Sam's reluctance, he asked, "whose eyes did you see?"

 

Sam shook his head, "I -" he swallowed hard and squirmed away slightly, "I didn't see his face, not - not then," he bit his lip, "when I took my nap, he, um, green... and full lips." Sam's gaze dropped down to Dean's lips, then at the bed again. 

 

"He... I see." Dean hid a grin. "Maybe I should check, make sure you are alright. You're not aching right now, are you?" Seeing Sam shake his head, he nodded as well and skimmed his mouth over Sam's chest. He lingered over his nipple, licking and sucking. 

Sam sucked in a breath as Dean licked and sucked his nipple the sensation sending heat through his system that pooled in his groin.

"You do smell like honey." Splaying both hands across Sam's abs, he kissed a line between them, traveling downwards. "Sing to me while I examine you. The songs you were so taken with after dinner... sing them."

Dean was doing exactly what he had imagined his knight doing, his knight that no longer was totally a faceless man, but now had green eyes and full lips, that kissed him like Dean...

Sam sucked in a sharp breath, his cock twitching, taking notice of what Dean was doing along with the images in Sam's mind. "Um, I -" Sam frowned and shook his head, "I can't remember the words, I -" Sam's hips rose upward toward Dean as his head rolled on the pillow. "I - this," he swallowed a moan. "Just like earlier," Sam whispered on a sigh.

"You mean the pain is starting?" He looked up, then moved on down and lifting Sam's cock, started to examine it. "I wonder if it would ache if I kissed it, what do you think? Hmm? Or how about this?" He cupped him just the way he had in the morning, gently putting pressure on his now hardening cock. "Maybe I should stop playing with it, I don't want you in 'pain' again." Dropping a kiss on the tip of Sam's cock, he released him. "You want to sleep now?"

 

Sam shook his head, "No, don't stop," a small whimper escaped him, "please..." Sam bit his lip as his hips thrust upward. "Pp-put your hand on me again," Sam arched and reached down with his own hand, grabbing his rapidly swelling cock, a small gasp leaving him as he gripped it, his other hand sliding over to creep up the side of his leg, pulling his legs apart before cupping his balls. Sam's eyes rolled up, lips parted as his neck arched back.

Dean gently forced Sam to let go of himself, then pinned his wrists to the bed, next to his body. "I don't think we should get you that excited. You were feverish and uncomfortable. Even though what I really... really want to do is take you in my mouth, let you rut for as long as you want... I ... I don't think we should do that. You're so delicate, you're my delicate innocent," he said, kissing his belly hard, moving his wet mouth in circles in a way that hinted at how his mouth might feel on Sam's cock.

Sam's breaths panted out as he arched into the feel of Dean's mouth on his stomach. Sam shook his head, "Nnn-no, I'll be okay, really." He swallowed hard, "do - do that," he nodded, "touch me... with your mouth." Sam tried to squirm upward on the bed and bring his cock up to Dean's mouth, even as Dean pinned his arms down.

Lifting his head, Dean moved lower, contemplating Sam's cock. Sticking his tongue out, he drew its outline, first with the tip of his tongue, then with the flat of his tongue, pulsing here and there. 

Sam sucked in air between his teeth, his head rolling to the side before he bit his lip, breaths panting out through flared nostrils.

"I don't know.... maybe we should try this when you've recovered." Pausing, he moved lower, and sucked on Sam's sack, teasing with his tongue, then taking half of it in his mouth. He'd seen how many times Sam had grasped his balls, knew it had to be one of his special pleasure points, and he wasn't about to waste the knowledge. 

As soon as Dean's mouth closed over his sac, his tongue teasing him, Sam's lips parted, eyes widening, he quickly grit his teeth, pressing his lips together hard to keep from shouting. His breaths came harder, his cock twitching and pearling with pre-cum as he moaned. Oh God, so good... felt _so good_...

Pulling off, he sucked on the other side, then passed his lips over Sam's shaft and lifted his head. "I don't think that was a good idea. It just got you harder. I'm sorry... sorry Sammy, I'll leave you alone now."

The fingers of Sam's hands as Dean held his wrists pinned to the bed moved, overlapping Dean's wrist, holding him back, just as much as Dean was holding him as Sam's head and shoulders came up off the bed, "NO!" his own authoritative bark surprised him, and Sam bit his lip, as he stared at Dean. "Please," he begged softly, "don't leave me like this," Sam pleaded, slowly lowering his upper body back down against the bed and pillows.

Without answering, Dean merely looked at Sam's hands gripping his own wrists, then lowered his head. Done with the teasing, he moved his open mouth up and down Sam's shaft, then releasing one of his wrists, grasped his cock. As he slowly squeezed his innocent, he started to lick the areas of his cock that remained exposed... his crown, and between Dean's fingers. So good, his innocent's reactions were so fucking good. And he tasted like honey... tasted perfect for him, had been groomed just for him. Dipping his tongue into the small slit at his tip, he licked off his pre-cum and pulsed his tongue, then sucked him inside the wet heat of his mouth. 

Sam panted and writhed against Dean, against his mouth, small moans and whimpers breaking from his throat, his head rolling on the pillows, eyes closing, then opening, blinking to stay that way, jaw clenched, nostrils flared. Sam groaned and arched his neck. "Don't," he licked his lips, "don't stop, please...." his head rolled, "oh God..."

When Dean sucked his cock into his wet warm mouth, Sam's hips bucked as his free hand reached for Dean's head, fingers splayed in the soft short strands. His breaths panted out, hard and heavy, chest rising and falling with each breath, face flushed a deep pink. "Ohgod, ohgod... Dean, don't stop!" a small cry tore from Sam's lips as his hips bucked his cock deeper into that wet warmth.

He hadn't expected this much enthusiasm this quickly, and it made his heart soar. Maybe someday soon, his innocent would show the same need for other things, things that had disappointed him before. Things Dean needed, would need more desperately when he fought darkness, and the darkness within himself grew. He sucked hard now, moving his mouth up and down Sam's hard flesh, allowing him to thrust deep into his throat. _That's it... that's it... you're so close... so close._

Sam thrust his hips hard, the rhythm he had started lost in his frenzy, eyes widening as his lips parted, gasping in air. "Dean! Dean!" Sam's hand on the bed, gripped the linens as the hand on Dean's head curled in his hair, tugging on the strands too short to get a good grip on.

Sam squeezed his eyes closed, teeth clenched together as he arched his neck back, muscles tensing, the pink tint on his face,turning an even deeper shade. He felt heat pool low in his belly, his balls drawing up tight just as they had before. Sucking in air through his nose, Sam arched his hips more, and then he was coming, hot jets of his spunk shooting down his masters throat as Sam cried out Dean's name.

Releasing Sam's other hand, Dean stroked his belly, soothing him as he kept sucking, wringing out everything Sam could give him, refusing to allow even a drop of his innocent's essence to spill from his mouth. As Sam started to ease up, his hips moving and rotating at a much more relaxed pace, Dean slowly pulled off, a soft popping noise sounding. He licked Sam a few more times, let his now flaccid cock fall, then crawled up his body and looked into his face. He cupped Sam's cheek. "That's my boy. You got your pole up two times. Either you really like my mouth or... you're a knight," he teased, kissing him on the mouth, groaning at the feel of Sam's mouth, and his hot breaths skimming over his skin.

Sam lay staring up at the ceiling, not seeing it as he gulped in air, his eyes moved as Dean did, tracking him as Dean crawled up his body, then gazing up into his face as Dean looked down at him. Sam's chest rising and falling heavily with his breaths as he fought to catch it.

Sam gave a small breathy chuckle to Dean's words and licked his lips before Dean leaned down and kissed him. His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes once again to look up at his knight and swallowed. "I dunno, but I think I might just die now," he said breathlessly, his hand falling to rest on his chest. "I don't think I can move again," he shook his head slowly, "ever," he told Dean, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Then don't. I prefer you sleep in my bed," he admitted. He'd never envisioned his innocent sleeping anywhere but here, and had been sorely disappointed by his choice. The thought to order him to remain had crossed his mind, but it wouldn't have been the same. "Tell me, did you like what you felt?"

Sam blushed deeply as a wide smile slowly split across his face, making his dimples show, his gaze falling away from Dean's shyly as he nodded, lips pressed together before he pulled the bottom one into his mouth worrying it between his teeth. "It was... thrilling, and exciting.... scary, but it felt so good." He glanced up at Dean, then raised a hand and covered his face with it. "Stop looking at me like that." he whined, "you're embarrassing me."

"Am I?" Giving a smug smile, Dean asked, "how should I look at you?"

Sam peeked at Dean from between his fingers, a smile on his face. "I dunno, but not like _that_!" he giggled and turned his head away.

"And how do you think you're looking at me. Now... and _back then?_ " Dean raised a brow, then settled down more comfortably, pulling Sam into his arms. "Do you want me to give you a description? Your face was flushed, your eyes..." he licked his lips, "did you know your pupils take over your eyes and make them appear black when you are lusting after _me_? You could barely keep them open, or you couldn't make up your mind," he chuckled. "And your tongue never stopped painting your lips... making me jealous wishing it was me doing the painting." He nodded, going on despite his innocent's shy looks. "Your throat and chest were flushed and I think the sound of your heart must have awakened all of the residents of the castle."

Sam rolled closer to Dean, hiding his face against his neck. "Stop! Stop!" he called out against Dean's neck, making his voice muffled. Slowly Sam raised his head, his cheeks aflame with his embarrassment as he looked down at Dean. "I'm never walking out of here again, I'll just live up here forever and hide my face," he muttered, though a smile pulled at the corners of his lips.

"That I won't allow, I like to see your face. Sleep now, but wake me... if you have another ache between your legs." Dean was quite sure Sam would wake with a hard on, very very sure. "Or mount me and have your way, like in the tub," he suggested, closing his eyes, a genuine smile on his face. He was one step closer to finding peace in his life, that much he knew.

Sam gave a lop-sidded grin as he slowly lowered himself back down, his head on Dean's upper chest, face tilted up against his neck. "Mount...?" Sam frowned and gave a soft huff, "Don't be so cocksure, I might just wake up without any aches or..." Sam frowned again and sighed, "I'm going to refrain from further comment before I accidently back myself into a tight spot in which I am unable to wiggle my way out of." Sam told him, closing his eyes.

"Sam... keep arguing and I'll have you wiggling in no time," he threatened. It was an enticing thought, but he would allow his innocent to rest, and the morning would come soon enough.

 

* * *

Before the cock crowed, there was a soft knock on the door. Dean was up and sitting by the time the servant came in. "Your Lordship, there is a situation. Sir Peter is on his way." The servant rekindled the fire, and then lit up a few candles.

Giving a curt nod, Dean pushed off the bed, turning to cover Samuel up. He regretted that he wouldn't be here to find out if his innocent woke with 'aches' and whether he would be able to get over his shyness enough to mount him, or ask for sex. Perhaps he'd find out tomorrow, if he was back in a day. Many of his quests took weeks or months, but he hoped it wasn't the case now. He was only just getting to know Samuel.

Sam squirmed, reaching a hand out to toss over Dean, only to find cold linens instead. Licking his lips, Sam lifted his head, eyes opening just to mere slits, lashes nearly still clinging together, "Mm? Dean?" Sam turned his head, looking around for him.

"Shshsh, sleep." Dean pulled on some more clothes, then came back to the bed, sitting on its edge to put his boots on. "I'm leaving on a hunt. I'll send word once I know more." The temptation to slip back under the sheets and cling to the warmth of his innocent's body was strong. He ran his hand over the back of Sam's searching hand, giving it a small squeeze.

Sam took in a deep breath, pushing himself up on his elbows as he turned over on his stomach, eyes just a little more open. "Hmm? A hunt?" Sam frowned, "No, you can't," raising a hand to rub at one eye Sam blinked a few times, coming more awake. "I'll go with you," Sam told him, pulling up onto his hands and knees on the bed, before turning to sit up and stifling a yawn. "Can I? I won't be in the way, I wanna go."

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what we are facing. Come meet me at breakfast, if I think it will be safe for you, you may come." He got up and walked to the door, then turned. "But if I say no... don't ask again. I won't endanger you."

Sam nodded silently up at Dean, though he wanted to argue that he would not _be_ endangered, he'd _be_ with him.... and wasn't he suppose to be a great knight? The thought made Sam almost smirk, but he fought back the impulse as he reached to grab his clothes. 

He wasn't an invalid either, many a day he'd spent dreaming that _he_ could someday be a knight himself, though it was an impossibility without someone to sponser him, he had dreamt it just the same and worked to become strong and agile. He wasn't a child. These arguements too he didn't voice, as he watched Dean slip from the room.

With a sigh, Sam pulled from the bed, pulling on his brais and breeches and started to clean up and prepared to go downstairs tp break his fast.

* * *

Walking into the dining hall, Sam's attention was immediately and solely focused on Dean as he made a beeline for him, not even pausing to scratch the head of one of his dogs as they made their way over to him. "Well? What is it? Can I go?" Sam asked Dean as he reached him, slightly slanted champagne hazel eyes searching Dean's face eagerly.

Giving him a long look, Dean eventually nodded. Though a part of him wanted to protect Sam from the knowledge of what was out there, he'd seen the boy's curious and stubborn nature. It was best that he show Sam himself under controlled circumstances where Sam would be protected then allow him to find a way to find out for himself. This hunt wasn't too far, and it appeared to be a simple case. He motioned to a servant, and nodded for Sam to sit.

Sam sat down, eager eyes on Dean's, his heart racing as he fought to hide the smile that wanted to spread across his face.

"We will go cast the demon out of a woman possessed. Eat quickly, we leave at the half hour candlemark." 

The servant brought a box, and Dean opened it, taking out a silver amulet. "This will protect you from possession. Never take it off." Leaning forward, he put the chain over Sam's head, he tucked the silver charm under Sam's tunic, his fingers brushing over warm skin. 

Sam's eyes tracked the movement of Dean's hands and the amulet as he put it on him, the smile he had been trying to hide, slipping out as he nodded, one hand going to rest against the amulet at his chest. "I won't, my lord," Sam told him, eyes alight with awe and excitement.

"And you will obey without question every order. Mine... Peter's, it is for your safety," Dean emphasized. His innocent was smiling now but the sight of a person possessed would likely wipe the smile away. He hoped it would not give him nightmares.

Sam nodded before turning around to eat. "I will, don't worry," he mumbled, piling food onto his plate and stuffing some into a pouch for later, even as he mentally rolled his eyes at his masters worries. 

* * *

A half day's ride later, Dean, Peter and Sam, accompanied by a guard of twelve other knights who had no knowledge of the occult and would rather keep it that way, arrived at a lone cottage in the woods. 

As they dismounted, a man of the church and two others approached and explained that the healer, Tara, well known among these parts, had been acting strange. That those who went to her for small ailments had started to rot away and die. Father Angus had come to see her and when he'd started to pray, her eyes had bled to black and the old priest had been thrown across the room so hard, he'd broken his skull and died. 

His assistant had run out and poured salt around the cottage but had been afraid of going back inside. 

"Good," Dean nodded. "Samuel, stay out here behind the salt line for the moment."

Shifting his weight, Sam wanted to argue the matter, but refrained, hands clenching at his sides as he gave a stiff nod.

Exchanging looks, Dean and Peter walked inside and searched. The healer was on the floor, in a corner, her matted hair falling across her face. She appeared to be comatose.

Peter stood guard over her, a large silver cross in one hand and holy water in the other, while Dean turned his back and began to draw on the floor. When he was done, both men moved suddenly to grab the healer. She screamed and shouted and writhed, and only the unexpected splash of burning holy water on her face prevented her from throwing the men against the wall.

Now stuck in the devil's trap, she walked in a circle, cursing them both, their parents and their great grand parents. Then she started on their progeny.

Dean walked to the door and looked out. "Sam, come. Stay near the door. Walk back beyond the salt line if there is trouble." His gaze went to the other men who appeared unhappy with the sounds from inside.

Sam nodded and walked quickly over to where Dean stood, looking past him inside the room. All he could see was that there was a woman inside of some circle. Sam's brows drew together as he remembered seeing that before, back at the monestary in one of the hundreds of books that he had learned from.  
Looking back at Dean, Sam licked his lips and tilted his head, "I - I can help, what do you need me to do. Let me help."

Her head spun toward Sam, eyes black as night going back to normal. "Help me. I haven't done anything," she said in a little girl's voice. "They hurt me," she said, showing him brutal cuts on her arms, yet bleeding. "Stop my bleeding, please?"

Sam took a step closer, eyes fixed on the girl's bleeding cuts, before his gaze went to her face, "Who hurt you?" he asked softly, taking another step into the house, brushing past Dean.

Dean hand whipped out quickly, grasping Sam's arm. "They lie, they play on sympathies. Do not get closer."

Sam's gaze darted to Dean's, lips parting as he tried to think of what to say, _how_ to say it. This was just a girl, not a monster. Sam's attention was drawn back to the girl as she spoke again, muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched it.

"Men from the church. I'm a healer, they call me a devil... I just help people, save them," she cried, tears flowing down her cheeks. "They're superstitious, afraid of what they don't understand."

 _'Men from the church.'_ Sam had learned first hand how _un_ trustworthy men from the church were.

Releasing Sam's arm, but aware of what his innocent might do and where he was, Dean started to flip through a worn book. There was the smell of sulpher and he'd noted foxglove on the wooden table. It was likely that the healer was one who knew spells, and that she'd been possessed by one who would make perverse use of her knowledge. He had to find the right exorcism, not the one he knew without having to look at the text.

"Please... at least don't let me die. I am accused of being a witch but... a trial, before I am burned? Please, sir." She stretched her arm out to Sam.

Sam shook his head as he looked at the girl, "No one is going to hurt you, I -" he glanced at Dean, then looked back at her, "I won't let them."

Finding what he was looking for, Dean made a face. This was going to be more difficult than he'd hoped. "On your knees," he said, ignoring Samuel and walking close to the circle. "This can be easy or it can be difficult. On. Your. Knees." He looked over at Peter and nodded at the silver cross. His friend tossed it to him.

She started to cry in earnest. "Leave me in peace, you've done enough... all of you. I'll die anyway... then you'll be happy."

"Hard way." Dean nodded and stepped into the circle, slamming the cross into her forehead as he pushed her shoulder down with his other hand. "On your knees." When she started to struggle, he didn't hesitate, slamming the metal into her face again, blood running down from her nose as he twisted her arm beind her.

Sam's eyes widened, mouth falling open in astonishment at what he was seeing. "My. lord!" Sam yelled as he started over toward them, "She's just a girl! Surely there is a way to do," Sam pressed his lips together, waving a hand in the air, " _this_ without need of hurting her!" He ran a hand through his hair, pacing, unable to believe how callous and cold Dean was being to some poor girl. What had _she_ done to deserve this? She was right, she was innocent! If she was possessed, wasn't it the demon that was the guilty one here and not the girl before them?

Peter instantly crossed in front of Samuel and gave him a warning look. 

Pushing her all the way to her knees, Dean let the page open and started to read from it, the silver cross pressing down on her head. He cleared his throat and began, with Peter on occasion adding a few words and entreaties to the heavens for help.

_"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus  
omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio  
infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,  
omnis congregatio et secta diabolica." _

Her face bled more. She stretched her one arm out to Sam. "He's hurting me... oh God he'd breaking my arm."

Sam started to step toward her, but Peter blocked his path. Glaring at the knight did him no good either, so Sam's gaze returned to the girl as he chewed his lip.

_"Ergo draco maledicte  
et omnis legio diabolica adjuramus te." _

She started to get up, struggled against Dean's hold. Peter threw another cup of holy water on her face. Steam rose as she screamed. An invisible force threw furniture at Peter, and pushed Dean back, though he stubbornly clung to her, and continued the ritual.

Sam ran a hand through his hair as he watched what was happening around him, saw the evidance that she _was_ possessed, but he still didn't think they had to be so brutal with the poor girl in order to get the demon out. Muscle twitching in his jaw, he clenched and unclenched his hands into fists as he watched the poor girl bleed, her skin seeming to melt away under the holy water. _For the love of God..._

A struggle ensued. Dean's head whipped back as invisible hands tried to choke him. 

Sam gasped, eyes widening. "My lord!" Fear now for Dean's saftey overriding that of the girl's as Sam tried to get closer.

Dean kicked her, forcing her to slam against the shocking walls of the devil's trap and making her curse. All the shutters slammed shut, the door following. Candles went out, plunging the small house into darkness.

"Goddamit... I cant read. Peter, get the fucking door op--" Dean's words were cut short.

Sam stood worrying his lip, wanting to move forward, but Peter in his way, wanting to help, to _do_ something.

"Don't move," Peter yelled at Samuel, then went to struggle with the door, shouting for those outside to come break it down.

Head turned in the direction Sam heard Peter walking off in, Sam looked back toward where Dean and the possessed girl were, jaw clenched, muscle twitching. Sam licked his lips and made a decision, Dean wanted the exorcism finished, _he_ would finish it. _"cessa decipere humanas creaturas, eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare,"_ he heard the girl screaming.

The low melodic voice speaking the words of the exorcism ritual so perfectly was Samuel's. How was that possible? Dean had no time to ponder too deeply as the victim got more violent. They struggled, fought, him to keep the cross on her forehead, her to kill him. His hand desperately searched outside the trap to find more holy water but failed. But Samuel's persistent words had Dean whispering in the woman's ear, "you're going to hell... now."

Swallowing nervously, Sam continued. _"Vade, Satana, inventor et magister omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis. Humiliare sub potenti manu dei, contremisce et effuge, invocato a nobis sancto et terribili nomine, quem inferi tremunt. Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine. Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris, te rogamus, audi nos. Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae te rogamus, audi nos. Terribilis Deus de sanctuario suo. Deus Israhel ipse truderit virtutem et fortitudinem plebi Suae. Benedictus Deus. Gloria Patri."_

The door had been broken open, allowing light to flood inside and Dean said the last words of the ritual together with Sam. The healer's body went limp, and a vile dark smoke erupted from her mouth.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Dean put his hand over the healer's nose. "She breaths. See that she is taken care of," he said to a pair of the knights and the church man who walked inside.

Sam stood, hands clenched to fists at his sides, his breathing somewhat labored, eyes fixed on the girl, lips parted when it was all over.

Stepping out of the circle, he put his arm around Sam's back and walked him outside. "You... are amazing and brave, how is it I didn't know that?" Pulling him up hard against him, he kissed his innocent hard, trying to control the need to be cleansed of darkness. "Thank you."

Sam didn't move, or tear his gaze away from the girl until he felt Dean touch him, only then was he pulled out of his shock and allowed Dean to walk him outside. He shook his head at Dean's question, lips still parted, his stomach flipping and flopping as he gulped in air. As Dean kissed him, Sam fought not to struggle, not to shove him away, didn't want him to think it was _him_ causing the reaction, but Sam's inability to take in enough air. Shoving Dean away at last, Sam started to tremble violently, his eyes wide, just before bending over and retching, his breakfast spilling all over the forest floor.

For a moment, Dean thought Sam was rejecting him because of what he'd seen. But as he stroked his back and called for water, he thought it might be because unlike himself, Samuel had no ability to keep the darkness he'd touched within him. Just as he cleansed Dean of Dean's darkness... Sam had to expel any darkness that entered him. 

He gave his innocent another moment for the spasms to end, then helped him up. A cup of water was given to Sam. "I should have left you at home," Dean mused, regretting the pain he'd caused.

Sam took the water offered with a shaky hand as he shook his head, "No," he swallowed and took a long drink, gulping the water down, the wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, "I'm okay, just felt," he made a face, "funny." he nodded, "I'm okay now."

One of the knights offered Sam a small apple. Dean shook his head, still angry at himself for letting Samuel ride with them. He spoke to the two knights who would take the healer and the two other men to safety, then returned. "We ride back."

"My Lord, perhaps a stop at the tavern in McInlay?"

Dean shook his head 'no' and started to help Samuel up onto his horse. His face was grim, the way it usually was after a hunt, but he had the added weight of worrying about Sam. 

Sam leaned back against Dean and closed his eyes for a moment as the horses were turned around. Pulling up to sit straight, Sam reached for his master's hand. "I didn't mean to upset you. I'm alright, really. Just," Sam shook his head, "something didn't set right within me. I'm better now, I swear it."

"I'm not upset." It wasn't wholly true. He threaded his fingers through Sam's, and placed it on Sam's belly as the others prepared to ride. "You expel the taint, me... it just twists me inside. Hold on," he nodded at the others and began to ride slightly ahead. 

Sam frowned thoughtfully, "That," he bit his lip, "that is what you feel? All the time? It... it nearly hurt, was close to painful." Sam turned his head to look over his shoulder at Dean, "and this is what you suffer through?"

"Not exactly. Don't squirm right now," his words were sharp. He took in a couple of breaths, ignoring the voice in his head telling him to force his innocent to help him right here and now. His fingers dug into Sam's belly as he tried to maintain control, riding faster. 

Sam froze, eyes widening, "I - am I making it worse?" he asked, trying to lean forward more away from Dean, not wanting to add to his discomfort. 

"Shsh, Samuel." His hand slipped down, between Sam's legs. "The need to claim is on me," he swallowed as the horse stumbled and his erection ground into Sam's ass. "I will control it... don't aggravate. Don't fight," he reminded him, his hand pressing down, squeezing Samuel, wanting him to ache the way he was aching.

Sam sucked in a breath at the feel of Dean's hand on his cock, squeezing, teasing, sending heat through his system. A small whimper broke from Sam's throat as his head fell back against Dean's shoulder, eyes closing, he bit his lip. "Oh God..." Sam breathed the words, his hips thrusting his groin into Dean's hand.

He pulled the boy practically over himself, groaning at the harder pressure on his cock. As he moved his hand over Sam's arousal, his mind filled with images of them on their bed, of Sam on all fours, of himself fucking him the way he needed in order to get relief from the dark needs that were building within him, different, sharper than normal lust for his innocent.

He kissed Samuel's throat, drawing in his scent, needing him. "If we were home, you'd be under me right now," he growled.

A soft mewling sound broke from Sam's parted lips, his breaths coming slightly faster as he ground himself against Dean's hand. "My lord?" Sam frowned slightly, eyes still closed, as he bit his lip, body molding against Dean's. "Need..." a whimpered moan tore from Sam's throat, "need to - to rut against you, I think." 

"Need to be inside you, need to touch your light," he answered, breaths coming harsher as Sam moved against him. "Feel dark and empty, damned without you." He bit his lip as need tore through him, making him gasp for air. "Tell me what you would do if we were in the bath." Why did he torture himself so? Perhaps if he was able to get off now, he would be able to control his need later. Maybe he wouldn't take as much, maybe he wouldn't need to be inside his innocent, not until he'd convinced him of the joys of getting fucked. The last time had not turned out to well.

A small cry broke from Sam's throat, the idea of his master being inside him scared him, but his body ached, wanted the contact with Dean's. "I - I..." Sam swallowed hard. _The bath. He could do that. Talk about the bath._ Sam nodded, licking his lips, "I- I would press my lips to yours, lick into your mouth and suck your tongue the way we practiced. Grind myself against you, thrust my aching parts against your body. I -" Sam groaned softly, his hips thrusting as his cock twitched inside his breeches. "Dean..."

Sonova... riding and trying to get inside Sam's breeches wasn't working out well. Sliding his hand back down over the material against which Sam's cock strained, he alternated between squeezing and pushing his hand down and up Sam's length. "Would you sit on me? Would you let me inside if I told you how much I ached. More than you did yesterday, so much more. Would you let me if I touched you like this the whole time." As he felt Sam grinding down on him, he groaned. "If you were naked now..."

Sam panted, lips parted. Swallowing hard, he clung to Dean's hand, "I -" a soft whine broke from Sam's throat as he squeezed his eyes closed, "In the bath, we, I -" Sam took a breath and exhaled slowly, "you ask me that in the bath and I want to do this for you, I do, but I'm scared. I take your hand and lace our fingers together. 'Show me,' I tell you, as I breath in your breaths, open my eyes to look into yours. _My_ knight's eyes." Sam nodded, "Show me."

"Samuel..." he looked wildly around. "Hold still now... I don't know if I can wait... hold still." Biting down on his lip he fought against his nature, fought the darkness inside, the desperate need twisting low in his belly, coiling tighter and tighter. He stopped grinding, stopped teasing both of them, but a part of him cried it was 'too late.'

Sam trembled slightly with his desire, breaths gasping out, "My - my lord? You - you don't want me to continue?" Sam asked, biting his lip. "I -" he moaned softly, his hand lowering to his own groin, as Sam looked around to be sure no one would see and pressed his hand against himself, groaning long and loud, breath gasping out.

"No.... yes... damn," seeing a small cottage, Dean veered to the right and rode hard towards it, his horse jumping over a fallen tree and not breaking its stride, moving as if they were in pursuit. He pulled the horse to a halt, jumped off, and gripped Sam's waist as he dragged him off the horse.

Sam gasped in a breath, eyes wide, unsure what was happening. Where they were going or why. He staggered slightly on his feet as he looked from Dean to the house and back, tugging on his tunic to be sure it hid the buldge in his breeches.

"What is it, Dean?" Peter reached them and dismounted.

"Get everyone out of the house. Now."

 _Everyone out of the house?_ Sam's mouth fell open as he looked at Dean.

"Aye." Peter went and banged on the door. When and old woman answered, he told her to get out, and then brought several young children out as well. "The house is clear, my Lord."

"My - Dean? What? Why are we? What is wrong? Is there something amiss?" Sam asked him confused, his eyes darting between the house, the woman and children and Dean.

"No. Come," he practically dragged Samuel inside and kicked the door shut. "I _need_ you." Turning him around, he pushed Samuel against the door and trapped him against it with his body pressing aggressively against his innocent's. "Want you," he said almost wildly as he tugged Samuel's tunic off, and started to kiss his throat, touching him, running his hands all over his bare skin, claiming him. 

"M - Master!" Sam nearly yelled, eyes wide. How could he kick those people, _children_ out of their own home for this!? Sam's complaints and arguements were stuck, lodged in his throat as his tunic was stripped off of him, Dean's mouth on his throat, his hands running over his flesh. Sam gulped in a shuddering breath. "P - please, my lord, that family... I -" he swallowed hard, his hands having risen to grip Dean's waist, neck arching giving Dean better access.

"Please Samuel... I need this," he insisted, grinding his hips, his arousal into Sam. He sucked Sam's skin into his mouth, a low moan coming out of him as another wave of lust hit him. Using his knee, he separated Sam's legs, stepping closer, fucking into him harder. "Don't you feel it... my hunger for you?" he asked. He was ravenous, he hurt ... hurt for Sam. 

Sam gulped in air, his breaths labored, his body straining against Dean's as he squeezed his eyes closed, opening them, then squeezing them closed again, over and over, until he was staring up at the ceiling, weight shifting slightly from one leg to the other. "Uh, yeah, I, Mmm.. okay, but here, my lord? Family... there are children... I don't think.... I -" a groaned whimper tore from Sam's throat as his fingertips dug into Dean's hips through the material of his tunic and breeches.

"Right here... right now, yes." He allowed Sam to cradle their hips together for a long moment, feeling his innocent's physical reply to his need. He needed Sam ... needed him naked and writhing in his arms. Dragging his mouth down Sam's chest, he got on his knees and started to untie Sam's breeches, then moved his hands down to his boot lacing.

Sam's breaths panted out, "But - but," he whimpered and bit his lip, arching into the feel of Dean's mouth on his skin, his neck and chest. "people - people live here." Sam argued half-heartedly. 

Just a moment later, he stood up and lifted Sam in his arms, crushing their bodies together as he walked to the single bedroom in the house. 

"D-Dean, I -" Sam nodded, "okay, but here? I mean," his eyes darted about the small house before looking into Dean's face. It was wrong, it was embarrassing, it was... God, it was barbaric. Sam swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder at the bed as they entered the bedroom. Thoughts of what if that were the children's bed, a place where children lay tucked in to sleep, safe and sound ran through Sam's head and he started to wiggle in Dean's arms, eyes widening. "At - at least buy them a new bed after! Oh my God!"

Dropping his too talkative innocent on the bed, Dean quickly rid himself of his tunic. Crawling onto the bed, he immediately wrapped his hand around Sam's cock, and opening his mouth, sucked him inside. He wanted the protests to cease, wanted Samuel to want him so bad, he could no longer think. His hand worked over Sam's thigh and abs, caressing him, mapping his dimensions as Dean took him deep inside his throat.

As Dean's mouth engulfed his aching cock, Sam gasped in a breath, back arching as he gripped the sheets tightly in his hands. "Nnuughh..." his breaths panted out as he licked his lips, head rolling, his eyes closing and opening, low moans and soft mewls breaking from his throat. Sam's hips thrust upward, forcing more of his cock into his master's hot mouth, teeth clenched, neck arched. "More.... Oh yeah..." he drew in a shuddering breath, capturing his lower lip between his teeth as he squeezed his eyes shut, head rolling.

Dean gave him more, as much as he could before the demands of his own body reached a fevered pitch. Getting up on his knees, he undid his britches, pulling them down and letting his cock free. He touched himself, stroking his shaft as he looked down at Samuel. "Turn over for me?" His voice was harsh with the strain from waiting, but it was a question nonetheless.

Sam's eyes opened, passion glazed and droopy. "Huh? Turn...?" he licked his lips, slowly starting to turn, only to stop part way over as he looked back at Dean and licked his lips. "I - I'm," Sam dropped his gaze from Dean's, "go slow for me?" his gaze flickered up to meet and hold Dean's green gaze, "please?" he asked, before turning the rest of the way, hands gripping the bed sheets tightly in his hands, knuckles turning white as he braced himself, muscles tense, face buried in the pillow.

Dean nodded, running his hands up and down Sam's ass, his nostrils flaring at the thought of being inside him, of breaching him. "Just keep telling me that... to slow me," he ground out, forcing himself to do just that, slow down. Pulling Sam's ass cheeks apart, he slowly worked a finger inside him. "Don't fight this... don't fight this, relax..."

Feeling the intrusion, Sam tensed even more, throwing his head back, he gasped in a breath, eyes squeezed tightly closed. At Dean's words, Sam nodded and tried to relax, tried to fight back the panic that gripped his chest, made his heart hammer loudly in his own ears, his palms sweat as he gripped the sheets tightly. Blowing out a breath, Sam breathed in slowly and bit his lip.

Dean's chest rose and fell as he tried to move slowly, his cock aching as he watched his finger disappear inside his innocent. In and out, until he bent down and licked the puckered skin around his finger. Collecting spit, he pushed his tongue inside with his finger, wanting to get Sam wet enough that he wouldn't hurt him. He pulsed his tongue and moved in and out, his finger searching for Sam's special place.

Small sounds broke from Sam's throat, whimpers and groans, loud gasps and pants of air as he tried to get used to the feel of having something inside of him, then relaxing into it, the burn starting to dissipate and die away. When Sam felt Dean's warm wet tongue lick against him there, he gasp in a breath nearly belly crawling away from him with the shock of it. "Oh my God..." eyes open wide, Sam panted and moaned. His cock starting to ache again, Sam found himself grinding into the bed as Dean's tongue and finger worked his ass. "Oh God..." Sam moaned softly, his hips thrusting, back arching, then suddenly he was seeing white as pleasure exploded through his body. "Aahuug!!" Sam panted hard, chest rising and falling rapidly with his breathing, hips grinding hard against the bed. 

Each sound of pleasure from Sam had Dean one step closer to being unable to fight the need to take him. He was so fucking hard it hurt, but he fought it, wetting his innocent, opening him up. Another time, another place, he might have the time to get Sam so worked up he'd be asking for his cock up his ass, but he couldn't wait now.

Lifting up, he knelt between Sam's legs, aligning his cock to his hole. Desperately, he looked around, then grabbed a strawfilled pillow, and lifting Sam, shoved it under his belly, and realigned himself, groaning as his tip ground against Sam's wet hole. He stroked himself, then started to work his cock inside Sam, leaning over him, crooning in his ear about how well he was doing. "Breath... it'll be over... breath... oh God," he closed his eyes. "Tell me slow."

Sam licked his lips, harsh breaths leaving him, small whimpers tearing from his throat. "Ahuug..." Sam squirmed, grinding his cock against the bed, the pillow. His breaths panted out as he breathed like Dean told him to, eyes wide, hands tangled in the sheets that he held in a white knuckled grip. Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring as he breathed deep and shook his head. "Nooo," his voice a strained whisper, "Do - do what you did a minute ago.... Ahhh... aches.... Dean..." Sam turned his head, catching sight of Dean's hand, he released the sheets and slid his hand over, grasping Dean's. "Go slow!" he begged in a rush of breath, his hips gyrating against the bed and pillow, squirming under Dean as he sought the friction he needed.

"Slow yes.. going slow... going slow Sam," he repeated like a mantra, though he had an iron grip on Sam's hips and he was shoving himself inside, one inch at a time. Once he was fully sheathed in Sam's heat, the urge to fuck became almost unbearable. He lifted up, moved slowly, sweat dripping from his forehead. Angling his thrusts, he pumped slowly, seeking... searching... wanting to find that spot like Sam asked him. "Tell me when it's right... oh God Sam... tell me."

Sam bit his lip as Dean pushed slowly inside. It wasn't as bad as the first time, wasn't near as bad, but there was still a burn, an ache and it made him want to pull away, to tense up. Sam lifted his head, shaking it, "I - I can't it-" he sucked in a breath, then held it, face contorted in pain, "Stop!" he started to move, to squirm, and then he froze as his lips parted, eyes widening, "Oh God, Dean! Right - right there... " Sam's fingertips clawed at the bed, as he lowered his forehead against the sheets, breathing heavily.

 _Stop._ The word reverberated in the knight's head even though he wasn't able to. Not completely. And then Sam did a reversal, telling him he was getting it right. One hand flat on the thin matress, bracing his weight, Dean angled his body some more and started to grind down into Sam's ass. So hot, so good when Sam squeezed around him like that. "So fucking good, Sam... need you," groaning he tilted his head back as a shudder ran through him. Need started to pulse in his cock, blood pounding at his temples. "Let me fuck you now... let me." 

Sam's breath left him in a gasp as he arched and writhed under Dean. Sam nodded, "Yeah - yeah, okay.... oh God...." he whined, grinding his hips against the bed. In desperation, Sam pushed his hips up, quickly plunging a hand down between himself and the bed and wrapped his hand around his hard weeping cock, pumping hard, tugging on his aching cock. Low groans and unintelligible sounds broke from Sam's throat as he tried to find the right speed and friction he needed, his hips thrusting his cock into his fist, neck arched back, lips parted.

That was all Dean needed to hear. He started to fuck Sam, each thrust a little harder, ramming himself a little deeper, moving a little faster. "Oh God, that's it Sammy," he leaned down and whispered into his ear. "Love how you feel around me, so fucking tight, so perfect. Take more of me... all of me," he pulled out and buried himself inside Sam to the balls. A white light hit him between the eyes as pleasure rolled through him. "Oh God." He did it again, and again, until all he could think of was the pleasure, and Sam... his Samuel.

Sam gasped out his breaths, mewls and whines sounding deep in his throat mixing with the moans and groans that bubbled from his lips. He nodded, thrusting into his fisted hand. "Aah! Dean..." Sam cried out, pleading, needing.

Rising up onto his knees, Dean pulled Sam up, never leaving his body. One hand around Sam's cock now, the other cupping his face as he kissed him, Dean started to thrust, stroking Sam's cock, claiming every part of him, all of him... his innocent... made only for him. As he pumped and ground his hips, sounds started breaking out of the back of his throat, mixing with Sam's. He didn't give a damn if they could be heard outside, all he knew was that he needed this, and Sam needed it, and there was nothing more perfect in this world... nothing, especially after the darkness they'd encountered.

Sam's hand fell away from his cock as Dean took over, his head falling back on Dean's shoulder as his hips thrust into Dean's hand then arched back toward Dean's cock filling him. "Oh God... Dean... Dean!" Then Dean was kissing him, swallowing up the sounds that tore from his throat, that he couldn't seem to stop making if he tried. Pleasure flooded his body, the ache between his legs grew, making him want more. He couldn't hold still if it was asked of him, he was lost in the sensations, the bucking and grinding of his hips and ass, the feel of Dean's lips against his. Sam reached up, curling an arm around Dean's neck, holding him tight as he reached back with his other hand, fingertips gripping Dean's side, his hip.

Then Sam was shouting into Dean's mouth as heat pooled low in his groin and his balls drew up painfully tight. Sam's eyes opened wide even as they kissed, before he squeezed them tightly closed. Sam arched his back, sending himself harder down on Dean's cock, his dick thusting into his knights hand as the first shot of cum left him.

"Yes... fuck yes..." Dean groaned, his hand coated with Sam's essence at the same time he started to come hard deep inside him. "Fuck... Sam," he thrust again, a few more times, waves of intense heat searing him as he filled up his innocent, gave him everything he had. It took several minutes for the pleasure/pain to ease, to release it's absolute grip on him. "Oh God," Dean tried to catch his breath as he kissed Sam slowly, releasing his cock and carefully moving out of his body before turning Sam completely around. He licked Sam's lips, tasting salt and Sam on them. "Perfect." Kissing him fiercely, he let him go and searched his face.

Sam tried to kiss back, tried to speak, but his eyelids were heavy, his body drained of energy, spent. He looked at Dean through heavy lidded eyes. "I did," he swallowed, still trying to catch his breath, "I did better." His hand slid up Dean's side to rest on his shoulder. He licked his lips and nodded, "Let's take a nap now."

"You did more than better," he pulled him into his arms and laughed, his entire body shaking. "Nap... you're picking up habits from your damnable cat." He'd noticed sex made his innocent very drowsy. "Let's get you dressed and give the nice people their house back, hmm? You can sleep on the ride back." Opening space between them, he quickly used the sheet to clean them up, and started to reach for their clothes.

Sam reached a hand out to stop Dean, get his attention. He shook his head, a faint blush stealing over his features. "We can't just-" he bit his lip, "I mean we -" Sam looked down at the bed, then back up at Dean. "We should replace this." He shook his head, "It's not right." When he thought Dean was about to argue he added quickly, "What if it were me? What if this were _my_ home? _My_ bed? You think that old woman has all those children herself? They're probably orphans like me. What if some knight had done this to my bed, would you want them to leave me to it?" Sam asked him, biting his lip.

"Samuel, we have not 'ruined' their bed. The linens can be washed, or she'll throw a new one over them." He started to get dressed. "I am not getting them a new bed, Sam, there is nothing wrong with this one." His innocent was so damned softhearted. "And before you ask, no, we cannot keep them... any of them," he pointed to the door. "They're not pets." Having dressed himself, he brought Sam his breeches. 

Sam took his pants and started to get dressed, but he continued to give Dean looks that said how much he disagreed, that he thought they should at least replace the linens, something. "You know, they are probably not well off, a coin or two for their trouble then?" Sam offered what he thought was a great compromise, as he pulled his tunic over his head.

Dean grunted, tying Sam's britches into place more out of habit than need these days. "Open your hand." Finding the small pouch hanging from his belt, he poured some coins into Sam's hand. "You may use them to do with as you wish. I'll give you the same amount each month, don't waste it all in one place." Grasping his wrist, he pulled him close, "let's go home."

 

Sam nodded, curling his fingers over the coins in his hand, before he pressed against his knight. "Okay." he agreed softly, then stifled a yawn, though the blush that crept out onto his cheeks was hard to miss.

As they walked out, Sam made a beeline for the owners of the house, appologising profusly and telling them that his lordship had not felt well, that had been the reason for the sudden intrusion- It wasn't a _total_ lie - he then proceeded to give the woman a few of the coins that Dean had given him, once more begging her forgiveness, as well as tweeking the noses of some of the smaller children who stood near them.

"I'm feeling VERY WELL right now," Dean bragged out loud, his men giving knowing looks and smirking silently. 

Peter thumped Sam on the arm, "Good job lad. A happy Lord Winchester... is a happy castle," he nodded. When the innocent put Dean into a foul mood, it was very difficult on the staff.

Sam rolled his eyes heavenward and huffed out a breath, a deep stain coloring his cheeks and making it's way down his neck. "Hang a banner next time," he hung his head and grumbled under his breath as he walked toward Dean's horse.

Laughing, Dean smacked Sam's ass, then hefted him up and onto his horse's back. He followed him on, pulled him close. "Sleep if you want now, I'll keep you safe."

Sam sighed, leaning back against Dean and closed his eyes. "Let's not ever do that again, m'kay?" Sam licked his lips, "The cottage, I mean, not the...." he cleared his throat and smiled, blushing again.

"Next time we'll find a nice meadow, or a tree. The men will have our backs," he smiled, knowing it wasn't at all what his innocent wanted to hear. Not at all.

Sam's mouth fell open but then he clamped it closed. He'd played this game before with Christiana, not about sexual things of course, but the 'one up me' game, sure. Sam closed his eyes and smiled softly, "Why do we need the men? I would think you would be able to protect me with your big sword. Mayhap we could find a lake or soft grassy clearing?" He grinned wider feeling as though he had won.

Dean's shoulders shook. "Because while my _big sword_ is busy pleasing you, theirs will be free to protect us. At a lake, in a grassy clearing, on a parpet, in the gardens, anywhere you want. Just _want._ " Kissing the side of Sam's throat, he spurred the horse on.


	8. Chapter 8

A week had passed since the trip out to the possessed girl in the woods and Sam's riding lessons had started soon after. He was doing quite well and progressing faster than anyone had thought. Of course, every word of praise that fell from Dean's lips had Sam beaming, his dimples showing and eyes twinkling.

When Dean wasn't busy with taking care of running the castle or training, they would spend time together, laughing and talking. Sam got to build his stable for the elephant... and the dogs, and chickens, and pigs, and ducks, and geese, and sheep, goats and the lone cat who bounded after him every where he went, so it really didn't stay in the stable much. Eventually, Sam found a name for his beloved cat one day after talking to Peter. He'd found out that Dean's middle name was Jonathan and well, the very next day, 'Sir John the cat' was introduced at the breakfast table as he drank his goat milk because Sam was adamant that Sir John needed to break _his_ fast, with everyone else.

Sam managed to get Dean to go out with him to visit his mini- zoo and pet the animals who all but attacked Sam with kisses, pouncing on him as soon as they walked through the open doorway. Bridgette, Sam's female hound dog was due to have her pups any day now, and looked as though she were ready to pop any second she was so big. Dean managed to look interested, but that was because he was mostly focused on his innocent and not the array of four legged creatures he kept.

It was night and they were just walking into the castle from one of their long walks within the castle's outer walls, since Sam insisted a night time stroll was a good thing. Of course, living at a monastery half full of girls from whom he'd learned many notions, the truth was that Sam thought a night time stroll was romantic, but he refused to speak the words even though he had a feeling that maybe, just maybe, Dean knew. 

Before they entered, Dean pushed Sam up against the solid rock wall and kissed him until they were both out of breath. "Didn't want to waste the moonlight." Smirking, he pulled his bemused innocent inside with him. "What would you like do now? Listen to music, ask for stories, or play charades? Or..." he trailed his finger down Sam's throat, "is there anything else you want to do."

Sam's shock was quickly replaced with pleasure as Dean pressed him against the rock wall and kissed him. Breaths coming faster, harder, Sam gazed at Dean as he drew back, smiling shyly at his words and trying not to chuckle. Sam drew in a shaky breath, a shiver running through his body, the simple touch to his neck sending gooseflesh throughout his entire body and blood surging to his cock. He cleared his throat and smiled, hanging his head for a moment as he mustered up the courage to be flirtatious. Looking up, Sam bit his lip for a moment. "We could," he licked his lips, "play our own game of charades, up," his gaze darted to the stairs and back to Dean's face, "up in your, - _our_ , room," he cleared his throat again nervously, "my lord."

"Naked charades. Done." Smirking, Dean kissed Sam one more time, then tugged him inside, ignoring Charles' calls to come join the others.

Sam dipped his head down, hiding his blush as they passed by the other knights on their way to the stairs and up to their room. _Naked charades..._ Well, he hadn't exactly thought _naked_ , but yeah it would have led to that... Sam snickered softly as he shook his head about how freely his knight spoke of such things, as if it were proper to do so. "You know," Sam mused aloud as he looked over at Dean, eyes dancing, "it's a good thing that things worked out the way they did and it were not _me_ who was the knight coming to get _you_ from the monastery. You would have given all of those poor old men heart attacks, I assure you." Sam nodded, grinning. "And here they thought that the four of _us_ were bad!"

"Maybe," he grinned. "I do like hearing about your bad streak, you hide it well." It was the truth, behind that innocent face lay trouble, and Dean had to keep a close watch or he might be wheedled into promising away everything he had. They reached the narrow stair case and started walking up. "What if you were the knight, and I was the innocent. Tell me how it would go. Tell me how you'd go about deflowering me," he added more specifically, searching Sam's face for that hint of pink in his cheeks he loved to be the cause of.

Sam smiled and ducked his head, heat staining his cheeks, "No, you do not wish to hear that from me," he glanced up, "trust me, my lord. I grew up in a place with mostly girls and fanciful dreams," he shook his head, "No. Ask me something else. Anything else and I will tell you that. Not this."

"What I want _most_ is to hear the answer to my question, would you deny me this small favor?" More than one of them could wheedle. "I'll start it for you. Dean was three years old when his parents threw him out of the window. You see, he was a nuisance in every way, even at that age. Naturally, he refused to be disposed of that easily, and landed on a turnip cart that was headed to the monastery. So he was accidentally left there, and not knowing what to do with him... with me, the monks kept him. Your turn."

Sam blinked at Dean, pressing his lips together so hard the tender flesh was turning white before he finally couldn't take it anymore and burst out laughing, his head tilted back. He laughed until tears were streaming from his eyes and he was holding his side. "Oh goodness, my lord," he shook his head, "a turnip cart?" he snickered a few more times before managing to quiet his laughter, though he still shook his head then nodded toward their bedroom door. "If you must hear, then inside, where no one else can hear my shameful girly dreams," he snickered again, shaking his head as he muttered, "turnip cart" under his breath.

Walking into the bedroom, Sam walked over to the bed and sat down on it's edge, looking up at Dean. He licked his lips, frowning thoughtfully. "Well, I would be a mighty and brave knight, so I would need an innocent to help me with the horrible darkness that plagues me," he nodded as he stared straight ahead at a point on the wall as if seeing what he was imagining as he spoke. "I would search far and wide for the right one, and well, I'd finally come to this monastery and see this youth with the greenest eyes that I just sort of got pulled into and I would know..." he smiled slightly, blushing as he glanced up at Dean, then quickly looked away, down at the bedding, picking at a thread. "Are you really sure you wish to hear this, my lord?"

"I don't ask for things I don't want," he answered. Walking across the room, he poured two goblets of wine, though he still watered down Samuel's like he would for a child. "I think this will be a fascinating story. And when we get to the deflowering part, we may need to be in bed. Naked." He gave Sam a lust-filled look, drawing a chair close to the bed, setting Sam's drink down next to the bed, then sitting so he could watch his innocent. "Greenest eyes..." he nodded, "and what if he didn't want to be an innocent. I have a feeling he'd be... rebellious."

Sam shrugged a shoulder shyly, "Well, that's all that the monks would raise him as.It's what they do. Rebellious, I have no doubt," his lips pulled into a wide smile, though he looked down at the bedding. "I doubt that," he cleared his throat, " _Dean_ would like to have the monks tell him that he could not touch the others. Could not hold hands with his best friend when they ran or bump shoulders, or have a hug when he had a nightmare." Sam bit his lip and nodded, "Oh, I am certain he would be rebellious," he smiled, glancing at Dean, "I would hope him to be no other way."

A deep blush spread across Sam's face and disappeared under his tunic, before he tore his gaze from Dean's and looked back down at the bed thoughtfully. "So, they would raise you to be my innocent whether you wanted to be or not, as is customary," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "after all, it wasn't as though I were standing on the street yelling 'pick me, pick me' when you found me." He nodded, "And they would make you learn more Latin than any English person by rights should _ever_ be made to, have you study and work hard by day, pray every morning and night, and midday. You would be given one hour every afternoon to pray for your knight, which time you would waste away by sending secret messages to your three best friends by way of blinks and swallows, coughs and smirks because talking during that time is forbidden," he explained, "...but there would be times that you _would_ pray for me. You would pray that I would be handsome and kind, that I would care for you and not be cruel or beat you. You would pray that somehow, when the day came that God would grant you the strength to do what it was you had to do." Sam sighed softly and licked his lips, fidgeting on the bed.

Glancing over at Dean he bit his lip, "Am I angering you, my lord?" he shook his head, "I don't mean to, but you wanted to know what it would be like the other way around... I didn't figure you had any idea about _my_ life before..." he hung his head, blushing once more, "not really."

Dean put his hands together, steepling his fingers as he regarded Sam. "Angering, no. I want to know, but remember... in this a story, the innocent is _me_. Do you think I'd break the rules and touch myself? And what if my knight saw this, would he condone punishment... what would he feel? You know what I mean, touch myself, like I showed you how to pleasure yourself."

Sam nodded, "Oh, I know, it's you." He picked nervously at the bed linens and shrugged a shoulder, "I was just filling in blanks for you, I mean that you might need to know for your rebellion." He cleared his throat, making a face at how uncomfortable this was, but he didn't voice it. "I, um, well, I wouldn't want him -" Sam glanced up at Dean and smiled, his face a deep red, " _you_ ," he hung his head again, gaze fixed once more on the bedding, "to do that, because that would be, um, for me." He frowned, " _My_ right," Sam shrugged a shoulder, "at first, I mean. So, yeah, I wouldn't be happy and I'd probably say something about it." Sam frowned, shaking his head, "Punishment? No, you would be just a kid," he licked his lips and looked up, though not at Dean. "I think the prayer room is punishment enough."

"And if I was seventeen?" He saw the blank look on Sam's face and ran his hand through his hair. "You know the bawdy ballads they sing belowstairs? Make this story bawdy. It's not real, but it is you and me, and we want each other now... and in your tale. Say things that will make me and you ache between our legs, make us want to touch... to kiss. That is the purpose of this game, and you know how we end the aching." He gave his innocent a heart stopping smile, trying to encourage him to play.

Sam slowly turned his head to look at Dean straight on and not from the side, his mouth hanging open in shock and he knew his face was red, he could feel it burning with embarrassment. "I - I can't," he clamped his mouth closed and shook his head adamently, "I don't know how!" he insisted, as he hung his head, still blushly fiercely. 

Blowing out a breath, Sam swallowed and closed his eyes, "I - I can tell you," he bit his lip, "um, how is this..." he slowly released his lip that he had started to chew again, letting it fall from between his teeth, wet and pink from abusing it. "I - I come to see you and _you're_ in the bath... um, I watch you through the wall, and see you swimming and having fun in the water, but that's not what my focus is.... it's on the beads of water clinging to your skin and I am wishing I were one of those beads of water. I watch one run down your chest and in my mind, it's my hand, running over your too soft skin, that the sun has kissed and left freckles on," he bit his lip on a soft smile.

"I don't have freckles..." Dean started, then remembered Sam was talking about his childhood, and something in that smile said he still had them, which he did _not._ ,

"I watch you blink the water from your eyes and I know how pure and green they are, I have carried that vision with me into every battle, it helped me when I wanted to just give up and give in, helped me to fight harder. I watch you start to lather soap on your body and I can't explain it but I am jealous of the soap because it gets to touch what I can not yet." Sam made a soft whining sound and peeked out of one eye as he bit his lip, "I am horrible at this..."

"Nay," Dean smiled. "You're just poetic. It's sensuous, it's... it's very you. Please continue."

"Sensuous," Sam grumbled, "Another word for 'womanly,'" he huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I totally blame Christiana and Stephanie." Blowing out a breath, he licked his lips and closed his eyes. "Alright, where was I? Right. I, um, you start to lather your body and in my mind it is my hand running over your flesh, learning every area, every freckle and scar so that I can conjour every part of you up in my mind later if I want to." He smiled softly, "I watch as your hand travels lower, over your toned stomach and down," Sam swallowed hard and started to fidget more, even with his eyes closed, "Uuuh," he bit his lip, cheeks turning a bright crimson, "I watch as you start to wash between your legs, and think about how it would be if I were the one touching you there, if it was my hand on your member," he made a small choked sound deep in his throat, "think about stroking you and taking you in my mouth, like - like we practiced," he frowned, "sorry," he shook his head. 

Thinking about Sam, re-imagining him in warriors clothes, battle hardened and full of desire, was difficult, but Dean managed. The words Sam spoke rang true... he'd been there, imagined touching his innocent, wanted it beyond everything else. "Go on," he couldn't manage to laugh now that he felt his cock stirring.

Sam nodded, "I, um, my eyes dart up to look at your face as you wash to see if," he grinned, "to see if _my_ innocent is being innocent or demon spawn," his smile slowly melted away as he shook his head, "But what I see isn't a bad kid, a boy who doesn't listen. I see my innocent, his lips parted just right. It makes me want to come around and put my lips over yours and not care that the rules say I must wait another year. I see light brown long lashes wet from the water fanning over high cheekbones," a small smirk tugged at his lips, "that have the cutest smattering of freckles," he cleared his throat, "they go over the bridge of your nose too, by the by." Sam ducked his head snickering softly.

Giving his innocent a mock glare, Dean knew it would be fruitless to argue. He had, and lost. Time and again.

Sam cleared his throat and bit his lip, brow creasing in thought, "your head is tilted back and I have an overwhelming urge to run my tongue along the tender flesh there. Slowly, my gaze travels back down to your hands, between your legs and I think about how it would feel to have you rut against me, would you cling to me? Would you think me handsome?" he chewed his lip as he sat there a few moments deep in thought, his eyes still closed.

Dean's breaths had become more shallow as he imagined the pictures painted by Sammy. "I think I would take to rutting quite nicely, if you were my teacher. I'd find you very handsome, distinctive. All the other knights who came were short in comparison. You... with your ready smile, even as a knight I don't think you'd lose that, I would think you very handsome. I would... agree to let you take me."

Sam smiled wide and shook his head, "You would be in SO much trouble," he chuckled softly and took a deep breath, licking his lips. Peering out of one eye he looked at Dean and saw that he seemed to be waiting, apparently he wasn't off the hook yet. Closing his eye again, Sam nodded, "Right, okay, so I watch you climb out of the bath and I can see all of you now, not just parts that the water is not covering, too brief glimpses that are just not enough." He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. "So, as I watch you, I make up my mind to take what I so desperately want. I come inside. I have you in my arms and I am slanting my mouth over yours, I am touching you, my hands running over your skin as my tongue battles yours and I ache, I ache for you. I walk you backward until your back is against the wall and there I start to run my hands lower, learning your body, reaching down to touch your member and caress you there until you are aching just like me, my mouth on yours, against your neck, your jaw." I whisper in your ear how handsome you are, how long I have waited for you and how I have dreamt about you, about this moment for, eternity it seems." Sam shifted on the bed, moving to lay back against the headboard. He would never say it, never tell, but now he was telling his own dream, though it was working well as a story for Dean in the reversal and he was adding to it the new things he'd experiences, new knowlege he'd gained of coupling.

His boy learned fast... damned fast, Dean found out as his body tensed. The way Samuel told the story, it was equal parts sweet and bawdy. He shifted in his chair, not covering up the pole that had risen in his breeches. It was the point of this game after all. "I know these sensations, because I'm a rule breaker and I've touched myself... but it never felt like this," Dean chipped in. "I no longer have to imagine, you are there, solid, pressing me to the wall, touching me, holding me like I'm yours, and I am... once your mouth touches mine, I'm yours for always."

Blowing out a breath Sam, kept his eyes closed and slid down a little to get comfortable. "I tell you that I will make it good for you, because you are the brightness in my world, that I have loved you from afar and now I am going to show you. So, I start to remove my clothes and weapons. It's haphazardly done as I can't wait and I am unclothing mostly one handed because I can't stop touching you. I finally manage and there we are standing naked together, and I tell you to go ahead, _touch_ me, that it's alright, that I want you too. I tell you not to be afraid that I would fight Lucifer himself to keep you safe." 

"I argue that I'm not afraid of anything, but I am. I'm afraid touching you changes everything. I'm a little afraid of that look in your eyes, your smile is gone, and I wonder if I only imagined the dimples." He searched Sam's face, wondered if he was holding his breath. Rising, he went and lay next to him, on his side. "I touch you like this." He moved his hand very lightly over Sam's cock, hiding a smile as he felt his innocent's reaction. "I know you want more, I feel it, but I won't do it... not unless you tell me."

Sam felt the bed dip and knew the moment that Dean had laid down next to him though his eyes remained closed as he chewed his lip. At Dean's touch, Sam sucked in a small breath, body jerking slightly in surprise at the feeling.

He licked his lips again, slowly running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip. "I, uh," he swallowed, a frown creasing his brow, "I moan at your touch, but it's not enough, I want more, more of you, but as bad as the monks say you are and as unafraid as you claim to be, I don't want to be like other knights I have heard stories about, so I lean in, cupping the side of your face with one hand and run my thumb over your bottom lip slowly as I gaze into your bright green eyes, my other hand slowly moves down between your legs. I wrap my hand gently around your cock and start to caress you, my mouth is close to yours now and we are breathing in each other's breaths as I watch your face and listen to the sounds you make. But, I can't take it any longer and I move my hand back slightly, my fingers threading into your hair as I press my lips to yours, kissing you slow and soft, it's hard to make it that way, because I want more, want to put my tongue in your mouth, but I force myself to go slow, to be gentle. Pulling back I suck your bottom lip into my mouth for a second before releasing it and smile at you."

"I don't know exactly what is happening to me. My body won't listen to my own commands. My heart beats so loud I can barely hear you over it's sound. When you touch me, when you close your hand around my cock, I can't help it... I moan into your mouth. I'm a bit embarrassed, but you don't seem to notice, you just keep touching my mouth with yours. I know... in my heart I know something comes next, but I don't know what it is. It just... my mouth burns, and I need... I need something. 'My lord... help me... I'm on fire, I don't know how to stop it,' I tell you." Rolling closer, Dean spoke with his mouth only inches from Sam's, hand resting on Sam's groin.

Sam gasped in a breath, chest rising and falling harder, his own breaths coming slightly heavier. He bit his lip, then licked them, the tip of his tongue touching Dean's lips in the process, causing Sam to stifle a low moan. Clearing his throat, Sam's brow creased thoughtfully as he tried to focus on the story and not Dean's hand on his cock or the taste of his lips on his tongue. "I - I tell you that it's alright, that I feel it too, that we're going to help each other. Wrapping my arms around you, I cup your buttocks in my hands and press you against me, let you feel how much I ache for you, and I tell you to rut against me, that it's alright to do it. While you do, I pull one arm from around you and bring my hand up to your face again, cupping your cheek, but this time I turn my hand and tell you to take my finger into your mouth, to suck on it and get it wet. As you do, I kiss your neck and jaw, moaning softly and telling you how wonderful you are, how good you feel. When I pull my wettened finger from between your lips, I pull my head up and stick the same finger into my own mouth as I gaze into your eyes. When I pull it out I wrap that arm back around you and lean in, my lips over yours and push my tongue between your teeth, into your hot mouth. My wet finger is behind you, at your hole and I'm slowly pressing it into you as I kiss you, pulling back just far enough to encourage you to rut against me harder, to do what makes you feel good." 

Almost ready to rut against his innocent, Dean started to suggest it when his words were cut off as Sam displayed greater knowledge than what they'd done so far. "How. How do you know to do this, Samuel?" he asked, trying to forget the images, and concentrate on his innocent's answer.

Sam slowly blinked open his eyes, his breaths coming in pants, "M - my lord?" he asked, puzzlement clear on his face as he shook his head, "Do what? I was only doing what you asked of me. I -" Sam closed his mouth and bit his lip. "Was it not good enough?"

"Yes, too good," Dean rolled over Sam, pinning his arms up above his head. "Where did you learn about the fingers in my mouth and then pushing it in me, the way you just said?" He was breathing hard too, wanting Sam, but he wanted an answer. "Who told you... showed you these things?"

Sam's eyes widened as he struggled against Dean's hold on his arms, his mouth fell open as he tried to speak but no words came out. He shook his head, " N - nowhere, my lord. I didn't - " he continued to shake his head, "please, I - I was just trying to do what you told me to, to tell you a story. I -" he glanced up at Dean's hands holding his arms above his head then back at Dean's face. 

Sam arched, trying to make Dean let go, "I - Christiana! She - she said that when a knight takes a girl she bleeds because he tears her open, and when a knight takes a boy he has to wet his fingers," Sam shook his head, "I don't know! You - at the cottage, I felt... I just put the two together, I swear it." Sam told him, eyes wide and shiny with fear.

"Why are you afraid of me?" Dean frowned. "I've never hurt you... I never would. I just needed to know, and you've explained." He brushed Sam's mouth with his. "Get naked for me as you tell me the rest." He released Sam and rolled away, but left almost no room between them.

Sam sighed as he slowly brought his arms down. Closing his eyes he licked his lips and took in a deep breath. "No, you haven't, but it-" he shook his head, "just scares me. You were angry, I thought and I -" he ran a hand over his face. "Bad memories of other knights and other innocents, I guess," he answered softly, "I'm sorry." he sighed, raising up on an elbow. "Naked?" he quirked a brow, "Me? Now?" he poked Dean in the chest, "What about you?" he smiled slightly, "What, now I am to strip for you too? Why do I get the feeling you are getting the better part of this deal?"

"Because you are getting to know me. Alright... you're playing knight... you get to say what I do, as you're telling me how it happened," Dean magnanimously compromised. Rolling onto his side, he locked gazes, a challenge in his eyes.

Sam opened his mouth to argue and closed it again with a sigh. "Sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut..." he mumbled under his breath, reaching down to pull his tunic up before sitting up and pulling it over his head. Laying back down Sam looked over at Dean, "You should take yours off too." He nodded, then closed his eyes, trusting that Dean would do as he asked.

Licking his lips, Sam sighed, brow creased thoughtfully. "Okay, so, I tell you to do what makes you feel good, to rut against me, and I'm kissing you and distracting you as I push my finger into you, slowly moving it in and out of you. I whisper to you how good you are how good you feel and tell you how much I want this, want you," he licked his lips, wiggling slightly on the bed, his erection pressing against his breeches, making him moan softly deep in his throat. Sam bit his lip, "Hmm.. I - uh, work another finger into you we rut against each other and my mouth is at your throat, I'm sucking and nipping your flesh, unable to get enough of you. My free hand moves around to your cup your face as I pull my head up and look into your eyes. I tell you how beautiful you are as I rain kisses over your face, eyelids, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks," he smiled softly, "if I could I'd kiss every freckle. And yes, you have them stop looking at me like that," Sam told him, though his eyes were still closed.

Dean frowned in consternation at that, but he had his shirt off, and the story pleased him. Aroused him. He watched Sam the entire time, the way certain descriptions had him squirming, or restless. The outline of his shaft straining against his beeches, the soft sounds he was unable to hide. 

Clearing his throat Sam continued, "I pull my fingers from you and step back, taking your hand in mine as I sit down on the floor, then lay back, pulling you down with me, on top of me. I tell you that I need to be inside of you, that I have to. I swear that I will do my best to make it good for you, as I cup your face in both my hands and kiss your lips softly. I tell you to sit up then, as I reach between us and take my member into my hand and caress myself a few times, then tell you to lift up, to sit down on it slowly. I hold it so that you can, watch you as you do, the looks on your face, the way you are trying so hard to do what I ask of you, but I can tell that it hurts and it breaks my heart to see it. I move my hips to help you and finally you're there, and I'm all the way inside of you. I pull you down so that I can kiss away your tears, tell you that I'm sorry. I tell you how much you mean to me, how I've loved you from afar for so long."

Sam's hand slid down his body to cup himself through his breeches, his hips thrusting upward, his cock into his hand, a soft moan escaping him, before he licked his lips a strained whimper sounding deep in his throat.

Every image painted by Samuel's words ratcheted up Dean's lust. He was so so hard, it hurt. When he moved his hand over his own breeches, he found them wet with his precum, moaning as he touched himself. "Oh God... where did you lean _that?_ " Once again, it was nothing they'd ever done. Was it because his innocent dreamed of doing it? He knew, in his heart he knew Sam was innocent, because otherwise he could not have cleansed his soul. But the depth of his imagination scared him a little, what would he dream up next? "And do you mean it, when you say you love me?"

Sam slowly opened his eyes, a deep blush staining his cheeks as he looked up at Dean. "I learned it from _you_ , a long time ago. We did that every night for years." His gaze lowered, looking away as he licked his lips, shook his head. "I didn't know what it would feel like, didn't know how I would feel really, but I knew there was pain..." Sam bit his lip his gaze darting back up to Dean's "and everytime you made it better." He shrugged a shoulder slightly. "Yeah, I do... love you, have for a long time before I knew you and now that I know you.... even more so."

"Do you think..." he cleared his throat. "Would you love _any_ knight? Since you imagined a faceless knight?" It was ridiculous to be jealous of ... of nothing, a non-existent knight, of a dream lover. Ridiculous, but Dean wanted Sam's love only for himself, he wanted it in the depths of his soul.

Sam shook his head, "No, not just _any_ knight," he smiled softly, raising a hand to cup Dean's cheek, "just _my_ knight." He smiled wider, then started to giggle, "I certainly didn't love Peter!" 

"But if he'd claimed you as your knight," Dean persisted, the circular thought giving him a headache, but taunting him nonetheless. "You thought he was yours, that day. What if it had been true?"

Sam looked down, his smile falling away, "Then I would have done as is expected of me, but," he bit his lip, "at night when I couldn't sleep, I would have thought of the knight I wanted," he looked up at Dean, "of you."

That took Dean's breath away. Reaching for Sam, he pulled him close, partly on top of him as he raised his mouth and kissed him. It wasn't enough, not at all enough. Sliding his hand behind Sam's head, he deepened the kiss, claiming him with his tongue, exploring every corner of the silky depths of his mouth. When they needed to break for air, he looked up. "And if you were anyone else's innocent, I would kidnap you, take you for my own, even if I had to fight a thousand armies. I'd recognize you as _mine_ only." Sliding his hand down Sam's back to his ass, he pressed down. "All of you."

Sam's heart ached at those words, but it was a good ache. Dean pressing down on his rear, his groin pressed against Dean's, Sam's breath hitched, even as he had to close his eyes to hide the sting of tears. Happy tears. Sam lowered his mouth over Dean's like he'd showed him, lips parted, and ran his tongue over his knight's bottom lip before pressing it inside to slide against Dean's own. Sam's arms slid under Dean's shoulders, hands clasping the tops, holding onto him tightly. 

He moaned as Sam's tongue entered his mouth and tangled with his tongue. Sam tasted sweet like innocence and salty like tears, like the rarest of spices. Between kisses, he murmured the love words that he knew Sam liked.to hear. What started as slow lingering kisses and touches quickly ignited into more. The kisses became more desperate, the touches rougher. They rolled on the bed, changing positions again and again, with Dean somehow managing to undo both their breeches. "Do you want to try it... the way you would take your innocent for the first time, if you were a knight?" he asked, his voice husky with lust. 

Sam's breaths panted out as he looked at Dean, lips parted, eyes glazed with passion. "Uh-huh," Sam nodded, and licked his lips. "I -" Sam swallowed hard, scared, but this had been something he had dreamed about for a very long time. "Yeah, like, um, my knight - you and me," he nodded as he spoke, eyes wide.

Dean jacknifed up, bringing Sam up with him. "Pants off." Lifting up, he rid himself of his own britches, the put the pillows against the headboard. Pushing himself up the length of the bed, he sat slightly reclined with his back against the pillows and legs slightly bent. He grasped his cock and stroked himself as he watched Samuel undress more slowly, biting his lip as he glimpsed Sam's perfect ass. "Samuel, grease yourself... let me watch," he said, nodding toward the table within reach. A small porcelain plate held a measure of butter.

Sam knelt at the foot of the bed, his clothes removed as he looked from Dean to the butter on the nearby table and back biting his lips. His mouth opened, to say that he didn't know how, but then he clamped it closed without saying anything. Nodding he turned his upper body and reached for the butter dipping two fingers into it before turning back around, his bottom lip held tightly between his teeth, as a slow blush worked over his features and down his neck. 

Squeezing his eyes closed, Sam reached back behind himself and started to push a finger inside his tight hole, slowly sliding it in, his face a mask of concentration, lip turning white as he bit into it hard, face flushed a deep red. Gasping out a breath, his lips parted. Pulling his finger almost out, he added the second, a whimper tearing from his throat before he grit his teeth, pressing his fingers all the way in. Sam held his breath, eyes squeezed tightly closed, lips pressed together as he whimpered and fought not to pull his fingers out and say he couldn't do it. 

So hot, so fucking hot, watching his innocent finger fucking himself like that. He couldn't see his ass, but the reactions of his body, the small sounds he made, it was enough for Dean. He could imagine Sam's fingers splitting him open for him, preparing him to take his cock. His breaths came out in harsh near gasps as he continued to stroke himself until he was rock hard. "Crawl over my lap, I will finish it." 

Sam opened his eyes as he pulled his fingers out, a sigh of breath leaving him before he leaned down on his hands, crawling on hands and knees up the bed onto Dean's lap, he straddled his knight, holding himself up on his knees, Sam leaned down, his open mouth brushing over Dean's. 

"Mmmm," Dean gave him a noisy kiss, then wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close. He felt Sam's jutting cock press into his chest as he slid his mouth along Sam's hip bone, sucking and kissing him. "You're so beautiful, Sam." Hand splayed across Sam's thighs, he moved them up and down, sometimes inwards between his thighs, taking his time as if memorizing his body for all time. As he moved his hands, one pulling Sam's cheek to one side, the other moving to allow his index finger to rub against his hole, playing with it, smearing the butter around.

Sam watched Dean's hands run over him for a while, until the pleasure got to be too much and his head fell back, lips parted, soft moans leaving him, though his cheeks remained stained a soft pink blush. He slowly pulled his head up, his breath leaving him in a gasped breath, before he whimpered, biting his lip, body straining forward to rut against Dean and back against his finger. 

Sam's eyes widened as he felt the blunt tip of Dean's cock at his hole, slowly starting to fill him, his breaths panted out fast, hand grasping at Dean's shoulders as low groans and whimpers tore from his throat. "It - I," Sam shook his head, closing his eyes and biting his lip. He lifted himself up a little, then back down, trying to push down further, to take Dean deep inside, though he whimpered as he moved, biting hard on his lip.

"I know... different position. Take as much as you can, then stop," the knight said reassuringly. His stomach was clenching with need, his cock leaking, his body, eager to thrust deep inside Sam, yet he gripped Sam's hips and held his breath, allowing Sam the time he needed. "Bounce a little... small movements." His eyes practically rolled back when Sam moved and he got a taste of what it would be like to be sheathed within his tight hole. "More, more Sammy," he locked gazes with his innocent, eyes pleading.

Nodding at Dean's instructions, Sam did as he told him, taking a little more then stopping, bouncing slightly and taking more, then he was sitting flush on Dean, fingertips digging into his knights shoulders, short blunt nails leaving crescent moon indentions. Sam gasped and whimpered, A small cry tearing from his throat before his head fell back and a groan tore from him. He lifted his head, eyes glazed, pupils lust blown as he looked at Dean, brow furrowed. "Oh God, so.... so much, I - " Sam's hands were shaking as he held onto Dean. He licked his lips, breaths panting out,"Is it - do you like it?"

Dean nodded, screwing his eyes shut as he fought for control "I... like it a lot. You will too... just trust me." He moved his hips up, very gently, in circular motions, a groan breaking out of him at the intensity of the sensations crashing through him even with just these small movements. Lifting Sam up slightly, he allowed him to come back down over him, this time looking at the highly polished mirror that had been placed on the wall since he'd taken his innocent. 

Sam gasped as Dean moved him on his cock, lips parted as he clung to Dean. He bit his lip of sounds breaking from his throat.

"Look," he nodded toward it, pushing Sam up again, this time revealing more of his own cock, then watching as Sam lowered, impaling himself. "Beautiful, hmm?" Even before Sam answered, he started to thrust with more speed, seeking Sam's pleasure point.

Sam looked over where Dean nodded and gasped at the image of himself impaled by Dean's member. Heat burned Sam's face as he blushed deeply, but he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away. "B - beautiful? I - I," Sam gasped and arched as Dean did that same thing he had done at the cottage that had him feeling so good. A small cry tore from Sam's throat, "Dean... Nuugh... Nuugh..." Sam ground himself back on Dean, his cock leaking precum and aching. One of Sam's hands moved hesitantly to wrap around his cock, a gasp leaving him as he moved his hand on himself, head falling back, though he kept his eyes on his reflection.

Dean's eyes too were glued to the reflection, watching Sam stroke himself, ecstasy etched on his face. "Move with me, up and down," he said, and suddenly they were both groaning. The need to ram into Sam, take what he needed was growing, and only the fact that Sam himself took his instruction stopped him. "Oh God... oh God," he groaned, looking in the mirror as Sam rode him, watching his hard flesh disappear repeatedly inside his innocent. With his cheek resting against the side of Sam's chest, he kissed and licked him as he watched, slowly burning up as if he was walking through the fires of hell. "Yes ... Sam..."

Sam moved up too high, and Dean's cock slipped out of him. "Angh... Sam," Dean grasped his cock and positioned it, looking up at Sam.

Sam bit his lip, released his shaft and moved back, pushing himself down on Dean's cock, lips parted, lashes fluttering as he closed his eyes. A small groan tearing from his throat. "Should - should I sit up, all the way up? Like you're my horse?"

Dean groaned, "Now that's all I'm going to think of when you're riding your horse. Yes," he nodded, "ride me, as fast and hard as you want." He seized Sam's sides with his large hands sliding up and down, then pulling him in. Capturing his mouth with his own, Dean kissed him fiercely, with all of the lust that had built up from Sam's story telling and then visually in the mirror. He was hot, burning up inside, wanting, needing to be ridden, and he put all of that in the relentless kiss, his tongue everywhere at once, demanding a response and complete capitulation.

Sam moaned into the kiss, hands clenching at Dean, finger tips digging into tender flesh as whimpers and groans broke from deep in his throat. He tried his best to keep up with his knight, giving back as good as he got, hoping he was pleasing Dean.

When he broke the kiss, his lips hurt and Sam's were swollen and red. "Now. Ride me to the finish," he said, gaze locking with his innocent's.

Sam sucked in air, breaths panting as he stared at his knight, eyelids droopy, hazel's glazed with passion, a small smile pulling at his lips before he pulled up, sitting back straight on Dean's hard cock and lifting as far as he could, then lowering, watching Dean's shaft sliding in and out of him in the mirror, lips parted, head back, cheeks flushed with passion.

"Oh God... oh fuck..." Dean helped Sam ride him, arm muscles bulging each time he lifted him. It was unbelievably erotic, being able to watch Sam bounce up and down, take him in his body, ride him like that. The faster they moved, the louder their joint panting and moans got. 

Sam couldn't think, could barely gasp in enough breath, his body was on fire, ached and felt so good, so full. His cock pulsed in his hand, leaking precum as he clumsily stroked himself. "Uugh... uugh.... Dean..." Sam's moaned and mewled, writhed and ground back against the cock in his ass, thrusting up into his firsted hand. So good, better than any dream, better than he could have ever imagined. 

"Yes... fuck, yes," Dean said, through clenched teeth as heat pooled in his groin. Releasing Sam's waist, one hand closed around Sam's cock, and they pumped him together. 

Sam gasped, straining his hips forward into their joined fisted hands, back arching, muscles tensing, clenching Dean's cock inside him. "Oh God.... Dean... gonna... I can't..." Sam squeezed his eyes closed as he grit his teeth, his free hand gripped Dean's bicep, fingertips digging into his flesh.

Dean didn't know where he started and his innocent ended, all he knew was they were joined, body on soul, racing for heaven. He felt his climax like a rumbling eruption. "Now... Yes....Yes!" he shouted, lifting his body up, holding Sam down against him, preventing either of them from moving as he came deep inside him.

Sam's face twisted into a look of almost pain before his hips bucked just slightly, face flushed. He came with a harsh cry, Dean's name tearing from his lips as his spunk coated their joined hands. His body shook, trembled and jerked as he rode out his orgasm, lips parted, small grunts and groans leaving him, his head tilted back, before he collapsed forward onto Dean's chest, breaths panting out against his knights neck.

Dean ran his hand up and down Sam's back, soothing him, even as he continued to rock for another minute until the last waves of his own ecstasy subsided. "And then the innocent went to live with _his_ knight, and they lived happily ever after," he murmured against Sam's ear. "Look what a good story-telling can do." 

Sam let out a breathy chuckle, not moving a muscle, not totally sure he could if he wanted to. Sam's eyes started to slide closed as he lay there on Dean. "Mmm.... good.... story...." Sam mumbled sleepily.

"Maybe tomorrow we'll..." A sneaky suspicion crossed Dean's mind, and he looked down. Sure enough, his innocent was burrowing close and almost asleep. "You are going to quickly turn me into a 'one round wonder'," he complained, repositioning his innocent, laying him on the bed and taking care of cleaning them up. By the time he got under the covers and pulled Sam close, Sam was fast asleep. Morning sex... maybe that would be better for extended bed play, though they had been at it for quite a while. His innocent was both imaginative and a fast learner. Kissing him on the temple, Dean closed his eyes and thought about all the things he wanted to teach Sam.

* * *

The courtyard outside the castle was a flurry of activity. knights, some already on horseback, others mounting or retrieving arms ran around getting their tasks done. Servants brought large bags filled to the hilt and secured them to the supply horses. Instructions were given to those staying behind to protect the castle and routes were worked out by those Dean entrusted with that task.

Wearing a fur trimmed tunic and a fur lined cloak for the long ride ahead, Dean finished talking to the men in his library. Amounts that would be collected from his villages, what income could be expected from the market fairs that belonged to him, and who would take care to record the transactions was taken care of. He signed two requests for allowances to remarry. The noble widows in question had paid the required sums, and he wished them well.

He finished his mental checklist, then bellowed. "Why has Samuel not been summoned yet?!" His innocent would disappear for hours and finding him always required a hunt. If he wasn't off exploring the castle, he had his nose in a book or manuscript, or was busy rescuing a creature which would inevitably be added or sneaked into his personal stable.

Sam's head snapped up at the sound of his name being called by one of the servents. "Looking from the servant to the small chickling in his hands, Sam sighed.

"Coming!" he called back as he stood, carrying the bird with him.

"I'll just take you with me. How's that? Would you like to go for a walk? Come on, I'll introduce you to his lordship. He's really not as mean as he likes to seem. You'll like him," Sam muttered to the bird as he walked.

Entering the Castle, Sam went to where they had told him Dean was awaiting his presence. "My lord?" Sam asked as he walked in, trying to hide the chick in the folds of his tunic... just in case.

"Sam, where have you ..." Dean let out a frustrated breath and gave Sam a reproachful look. "I thought you might at least like to bid me good bye." 

Sam gave a small sad smile, "I thought maybe if you couldn't find me, you wouldn't leave..." he offered a hopeful look, biting his lip as he stepped closer.

"I have to, there are people who are dy... who need help. I just wish, well, I didn't want to leave you alone so quickly. I've sent word to see if Kate can be spared to come for a visit. If so, an armed guard will go collect her. You , on the other hand..." he walked up to Sam and cupped his face, "you are not to leave the walls of the castle for any reason, unless Charles tells you. Is that understood, Samuel?" He knew that soft and innocent as he might seem, Sam had a stubborn side to him.

Sam frowned, "Well, if I just go to the houses within the area..." he sighed, seeing he wasn't going to win this, "yeah, okay." he hung his head, then looked up, "Can I have a calf? There was this one that I saw," Sam saw the look on Dean's face, "no, wait! You gotta hear this!"

"What. Is. That. Sound?" Dean's gaze snapped to the folds of Sam's tunic. "You fit a calf under there?!" He'd seen everything now.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, pulling his baby chick out for Dean to see, "They were just hatched a couple days ago. Isn't he cute?"

"It will make us a fine dinner sometime," he agreed, looking heavenward. "Sam... I do not want to find a 'zoo' when I get back, I'm serious. Once word of the elephant gets out, I will already be the laughing stock of this side of old Blighty."

Sam frowned and pulled his chicken up close to his chest. "He will _not_ make a dinner for _anyone_!" Sam told him eyes wide. Sam bit his lip, "Not a zoo, uh-huh. I know. I mean, what are the chances of me finding another elephant?..." his eyes widened, "or a lion! Or tiger!"

"Samuel..." Dean pointed at him. "Now drop that damnable creature and kiss me goodbye." He opened his arms.

Sam smiled at him, and took a couple quick steps forward placing the bird on the desk, before hurrying back and wrapping his arms around, Dean. "If you argue about the bird, you can't kiss me." Sam told him, to keep from having to hear how putting the bird _on_ furniture was _not_ what he had meant. "I shall miss you, my lord," Sam told him softly as he bit his lip, hazel eyes searching green. 

"I shall miss you more." Lowering his mouth over Samuel's, Dean crushed the boy to him as he kissed him deeply. In a matter of a little over a month, Sam had become important to him in ways that he'd never imagined, ways that had nothing to do with their relationship as master and innocent. "I will miss your conversation. And your..." he allowed his gaze to travel down Sam's body. "Keep safe. Do not get in trouble when I am too far to... for me, Samuel."

Sam pressed his lips together and nodded, "I won't let you down." he promised, as he gazed into Dean's face, then bit his lip, raising a hand to cup Dean's cheek, thumb running over his cheek bone. " _You_ be safe," Sam gave a nod, "come back to me well," he offered a small brave smile, though it didn't reach his eyes. He cleared his throat and took a step back, reaching for his bird, "I should, let you get going, I guess," he mumbled, fidgeting. Tucking the bird back in the folds of his tunic, Sam stepped closer again, fitting his open mouth over Dean's and letting his tongue run over Dean's lips slowly before he drew back a hairs breath away.

"I love you," Sam told him, offering a small smile as he backed up, continued to slowly back away as he looked at Dean, "I just - just wanted to tell you that," _in case_ , Sam shrugged a shoulder, then turned and hurried from the room.

Right there. _This_ was the problem with loving someone. He'd never had so much trouble leaving his castle. If the hunt weren't so far, if it weren't as dangerous, he'd have taken Sam with him. Once Dean could no longer hear Sam's footfalls, he walked out of the library, and strode outside, barking out last orders as he mounted up. As they started riding, he looked back, wondering if Samuel was at a window, and then started to ride hard for the gates leading outside the the castle walls.


	9. Chapter 9

Weeks past and Sam was miserable. At first he had tried to be positive, tried to engage other castle knights in conversation, but they avoided him, even going so far as leaving a room if he and only one of them were there. The servants were no better, they all seemed to be giving him looks of pity and spoke softly behind his back as though he could not hear their whispered voices. 

He had taken to bringing most of the smaller animals to bed with him. He preferred Dean's bed as Dean's pillow still smelled like him and Sam could hug it and bury his nose in the familiar scent, pretend, if just for a few moments that it was Dean he was holding on to. The animals; four dogs, a cat, a lamb, a goat and two ducks, all helped him keep warm and feel less like he was in that giant of a bed alone, even if his feet did nearly reach the end of it. 

Sir John always slept near Sam's head, the dogs lined up at his side, the goat and sheep would vary between the floor and the end of the bed and the ducks were always a surprise.... once Sam woke up to one sitting on his face, sound asleep. When Sam had jumped the poor bird nearly had a heart attack. 

After a while, Sam grew more restless and with that came more animals. _"Not a zoo..."_ Dean's words rang in Sam's head, but he didn't see how a few more dogs, and a few deer made it 'a zoo', so Sam allowed himself the indulgence, just daring someone to say something about it. 

Of course, they all ended up in his lordship's room at night with Sam as well, so soon it was eight dogs, three deer, a goat, a lamb, two ducks, and a cat. Sam was nearly pushed off the bed and onto the floor many a night, but he didn't mind, at least he wasn't alone. 

Finally, finally, they received word that Kate was coming to stay with him for a few weeks, Charles had even gone to fetch her. 

*

Kate was dusting off her travel clothing when she saw Sam come down the stairs. Her ready smile turned into one of amusement as a number of animals trailed behind him, some bounding down, others clip clopping right behind him. "Is this a new game?"

Sam grinned and glanced over his shoulder, "Awww, they just need a little love." He reached out to hug her. "How are you? I am so glad you are here. The last few weeks have been horrible."

"Horrible? Why?" She hugged him back, then moved aside as her belongings were brought in and taken upstairs. "Have they been mistreating you?" She couldn't believe it, but anything was possible when the master was away. 

Sam frowned and watched as her things were taken inside, again, without a word spoken to him."No, no nothing like that, but, " he sighed, "no one will talk to me. The knights avoid me like I have the plague and the servants all look at me with simpathy in their eyes and whisper like I can not hear their words." he shook his head. "It's just not been good. But," he smiled, "now that YOU are here," he smiled wider, "I shall have someone to make mischief with."

"They're afraid a friendship with you will be misconstrued," she guessed. "They will get used to it, but who needs them when you have me? Now... you have to tell me all about _it_." She grinned at his blush. "That good?"

Sam hung his head as he reached for her hand, another smile pulling at his lips, "Come on, I'll tell you where we will not be heard," he mumbled, still blushing.

She followed him, practically running to keep up with his long strides. "Did he ask you to pet his 'dragon'? That appears to be a favorite line," she said with a trill of laughter. "Or did he act as if he was in pain, like he would die if you didn't 'help' him? No, I have it, he told you not to worry about 'it' and that 'it' was only a snake!"

Sam's efforts to quieten her were charming and lead only to her becoming more and more outrageous. Eventually, they were in a small sitting room, next to each other on a settee, with her waiting for his story. 

Sam shook his head, _trying_ to look scandalized, but failing, especially with the wide smile lighting his features. He cleared his throat and forced his smile away and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "No," he told her, as he stared past her at a point on the wall. "The first time was actually horrible," his gaze flickered to her face as he huffed softly, rolling his eyes, "but then it got better," he smiled and blushed, "wonderful really."

"Really? He was..." She put a hand on her hip. "I expected more of him. Especially after..." She didn't say after Sam had been kidnapped and nearly raped, but he would know. "I'm sorry," he reached for Sam's hand and squeezed it, "I know how much you dreaded what you'd heard at your monastery, and for him to..."

"It was my fault really, I guess," he told her with a sigh, running a hand through his hair, "I mean, it was going okay, and he told me to slow him down, I -" Sam made a face and shook his head, "I wanted words of love that he couldn't," he shrugged, " _wouldn't_ offer, so I was angry, hurt, I told him to just do it and get it over with. I didn't think it could be any worse than how I was already feeling." He looked away, "I was wrong."

"Did you get your revenge?" She asked, releasing his hand. "Pouting works. Or the silent treatment, that usually ends up with..." she lifted her hand to shake the thin gold bangles encrusted with jewels. "It used to work even better before Sir Harry married, when he had no one to go to, but Mary and I do try to stick together and hold our ranks against him." 

Sam smiled, snickering softly, "No, I didn't try for revenge, but I think I got it anyway. I - I'd pout I suppose. Kind of ignored him for a while." Sam frowned, "Like I said, it was my own fault. He didn't deserve that. Not really."

"Hmph." She wasn't fully convinced, but if Sam was satisfied, then that was it. "You know, you need to establish early in your relationship that you hold some power, have some say in things. A wife is chattle, but where some wives are trod upon, others stand up, wield power in their home. I hope you stand up for yourself Sam, I've seen many innocents with high spirits, now broken and relegated to being summoned only when they are needed for purification of their master. You can be... are more than that. I know it, and I know if you show Lord Winchester, he's not one of the ones who are closed minded."

Sam shrugged a shoulder and licked his lips. "I am... happy," he smiled slightly, "enough. When De - um, Lord Winchester is here. I went with him once to an exorcism, it was... _amazing_!" He gave a small laugh, "I think it shocked him that I continued the exorcism words when the house was cast in darkness," he shrugged, "I knew the words, it wasn't all that difficult." He hung his head, blushing slightly, "I used to have dreams of becoming a knight one day," he looked up, "so, I got my fantasy that day."

"He _let_ you?" Her eyes went round. "I have heard of knights who take their innocents with them, but I never dreamed he would be one of them. With him, the way he has spoken in the past, I thought you would be banished behind these walls, taken care of and safe. You know, I sent several requests for you to visit? Each time the answer was that I am welcome to see you... _here_."

Sam frowned, "Really?" he shook his head, "I never knew... he didn't tell me." Sam huffed and shook his head, "I'm not a child that needs to be guarded night and day," he grumped, brooding. Sure, he understood that Dean might worry, but it didn't mean that he couldn't at least make his own decision about whether or not he wanted to go see a friend.

She shrugged her slender shoulders. "If he allowed it, we'd probably be saddled with a dozen of his knights to guard you." They spoke a bit more, and she got out of him that when Dean was around, he wasn't ignored, but now he had nothing to do. "Well... we just have to find out what you like to do, ways to be useful," she said. "Since you like the animals so much and have your own stable... you could try your hand at being a stable hand, mucking stuff out of the stables." Her nose wrinkled as she teased. "Lord Winchester might not appreciate your scent though..." 

Sam laughed, a mischievous light in his eyes. "I guess we'd see just how much he _'needs me'_ after all." He chuckled, then sighed, "I know what I would like to do, but..." he shook his head, "I would likely be choked for even suggesting it, after all, what if I got a sliver in my finger?" he dramatically threw his arm over his forehead and let himself drop back against the settee, laughter in his eyes as he gazed up at her.

"A sliver in your finger? Sounds dangerous," she grinned, leaning closer. "Do tell."

* * *

Two months later, Kate stood outside the fighting yard, watching Sam practice with the knight. Lord Winchester's innocent was driven, if anything, and once he set his mind to something, there was no changing it. It had taken a lot of urging, and when that didn't work, hapless practicing using a real sword on his own and nearly injuring himself, before the knights paid attention and began to reluctantly train him at first. Later, as he progressed, they started taking pride in him, teaching him tricks, helping him master not only traditional sword play, but the acrobatic martial arts that Lord Winchester favored and had introduced to them by bringing an Easterner among them.

"Ha, go Sam!" She shouted, seeing he had the advantage and was beating the knight back. She knew it wouldn't last too long, but she'd seen enough to know, and heard enough from men who did not compliment freely, that he had the potential to become a fighting force to be reckoned with. Even Charles said so, though he prefaced or ended his statements with, "if Dean does not kill you himself first."

Sam did fairly well, good in fact, but as always a more experianced knight, one who knew exactly what he was doing, soon had Sam not only pushed back, but disarmed and laying on the ground the tip of his blade poised at his throat, before pulling it away and offering Sam a hand up. 

Angry at himself for not seeing the move coming, for not doing better and for allowing the knight to get the better of him, Sam reluctantly took the offered hand, pulling to his feet. Walking slowly back toward the training armory to return his equipment, Sam muttered to himself about how he should have done this or that, angrily scoffing at himself. He was _never_ a good loser. Stubborn determination and a driving will lead to that. Jaw set in anger and stubbornness, he glanced over at Kate and shook his head before hanging it and tossing his sword down, the pointed tip imbedding deep into the ground before walking inside and putting away the rest of the equipment. "I should have seen that coming." He muttered as Kate walked over.

"Yes, you should have. You've been doing this for months, and he has for what... decades? It would have been a nice blow to his ego, you besting him," she agreed. "Then he might never have trained you again." She looked up at one of the windows above them. "Charles was watching. No doubt fretting again. Do you think it means Lord Winchester is on his way back? I heard whispers of a siege."

Sam looked over at her, eyes widening, "Really?" he swallowed, "I mean, do you think he might be on his way back?" Sam licked his lips nervously, glancing up at the window before looking back at Kate once more and lowering his voice, "You know I signed up for the tournament. If Dea- his lordship comes back before I get a chance to go," Sam shook his head and sighed, leaning back against the small structure and tilting his head back, shaking it. "He'd _never_ let me go." 

Lowering his head, he looked at Kate and shrugged a shoulder, "Because, you know, I might get a blister and then, well, the entire kingdom would fall," he rolled his eyes.

"He's very protective of his kingdom, and his subjects," she smiled. "You'll prove yourself to him Sam, it might take time, but you will." She started walking with him as they headed back to the castle. "Once he stops shouting over all of the 'changes' you've made. I do hope I won't be called home before then." Her master was away too, and Lady Mary had come visiting twice to make sure she was fine.

Sam frowned slightly as they walked, "I didn't make _that_ many changes..." The elephant that walked up behind them, attested differently, as did the petting zoo that had been built in the very front of castle, taking up part of the large entry. The fact that he had allowed Kate to plant flowers of any and all kinds, wherever her heart desired wasn't that big of a deal either... of course, the rose bush that had already begun to climb up the side of one castle wall attested to that fact not being true either. 

Sam looked over at Kate and smiled, then snickered, chuckled, then laughed, and laughed harder as the elephant nudged him in the back. He nodded to Kate, "Yeah, he's gonna scream at me for days on end, isn't he?"

"You can turn the tables... make him scream your name for days," she said with a wink. They'd found books in the library that spoke of the libido and how to feed it. Since they both knew how to read, they'd had their noses in the books for days, blushing as they exchanged the best 'tips' they read about, and those too outlandish to contemplate. 

Sam snickered and nodded, "Use all that information as my, 'there's more that I changed', opener?" he asked with a small chuckle as he shook his head. "Well, I guess if I'm kissing him he can't be screaming..." he smiled and sighed as they turned toward the entrance to the castle, heading inside. 

"I think I should start taking care of things around here too, Charles shouldn't have to do it, it should be me. I can take care of our people here, make decisions." Sam nodded and ran a hand through his hair, "Mmm.... maybe after I change everything around, when he gets back I can be in costume and he won't notice me...." he grimaced and looked away, then stole a glance at her, a small smirk pulling at his lips.

"What costume?" she asked, looking at him wide-eyed.

Sam bit back his grin, "Oh, I was thinking of a court jester costume, then he would never find me." He reached out slugging her softly in she shoulder as his grin spread across his face.

Laughing, she shook her head. "Who has ever seen a jester as tall as you? You'd stick out like a sore thumb." Suddenly, she was ravenous. "Race you to the kitchens she said, after running at least five long strides, and shrieking when she heard his footfalls catching up. She ignored the scared servant who stood stock still, trying not to be run over by either one of them. They ought to be used to this by now.

* * *

Once a year, a tournament was held in the valley outside the castle walls. When Dean and his men arrived, the tournament was in full swing. If it had not been such an important event for the castle, if that weren't where he often hand picked new fighters to be trained to join the ranks of his other knights, he would have gone straight to the castle. But it was his duty to be there, and preside, and maybe jump into the games if he so wished.

He arrived and took his place at the judging tables, sending word to the castle that Sam was to join him. He knew the moment he saw his innocent, the need would be upon him, and that he could take him to one of the tents for a quick and private greeting that would take the edge off and make it possible for him to concentrate.

Several events took place, and he gave away the prizes. Then it was time for trials for those who wished to be trained at the castle. Afterwards, there would be more events, and a feast. He looked around, impatient to see Samuel after all these months... a little over four. He hadn't intended to be away this long, but had been stuck in a castle under siege. There had been nothing he could do about it.

There was a stir, and then Kate was brought to his table. He looked behind her, a frown furrowing his brows.

"Samuel is delayed, my Lord," she said, tossing her long hair behind her shoulders. 

"Four months, and he is _delayed_ ," Dean said stiffly. "Now that's enthusiasm for you."

The third candidate took his place, pulling his face guard on and engaging Dean's main trainer. 

Sam paced as he watched the guy before him, the third in the long line of those wanting to become a knight. His gaze darted out toward the tables and as he saw Dean, his heart soared in one way, plummeted in another. Looking down at the face mask in his hands, Sam decided he would have to step out wearing it so that Dean wouldn't know. If Dean so much as _thought_ it was him, he knew he could kiss his dream goodbye. "Well, Christiana, wish me luck," he muttered softly, slipping his face mask on as the third candidate was through, having gone down much more quickly than Sam thought he would, but then the man they were fighting was one of his Lordship's best. Sam smirked slightly behind the face mask. It also happened to be the very knight who had taught him everything he knew. 

Stepping out, Sam almost waved at Kate, and had to quickly make it look as though he had raised his hand to scratch the back of his neck. He berated himself over it until he was standing before the knight. No time to think of anything else now. Sam's entire focus was on the sword match.

Dean was trying to concentrate, but half his mind was on where the hell Sam was and why it was taking him this long when he'd received his summons. About to grill Kate, he saw the new candidate on the field aim a flying kick at the trainer, using it to try to get him off balance as his sword cut through the air. Technique like that... it was what he taught his men. How had this upstart learned of the trick?

Leaning forward, he started to pay more attention to the lanky youth. Something about the way he moved was intriguing... familiar, and not because of his fighting style alone. He was holding his own against the trainer, doing very well, but Dean had the feeling the trainer was taking it easy on the youth. Between being frustrated at being kept waiting by his innocent, and wanting to know more about the mystery playing in front of him, he drank down the goblet of wine before him, stood, and marched down to stop the fight.

In the middle of fighting Sam saw Dean rise to his feet and head his way, in fact Dean's movement nearly had Sam losing, only to narrowly make it out of the situation and continue with the swordplay. _Oh God, Oh God, what was he doing? Did he know? I am SO dead!_ Sam's gaze quickly flickered to Kate's, but before he could tell if she knew what was going on, his attention was pulled back into the match as his opponent kicked at him, swinging his sword, making Sam have to duck and roll, springing back to his feet once more.

"Stop." Dean didn't have to shout, the trainer immediately withdrew. "You." His gaze pierced the youth whose face he could not see. "What's your name?"

Sam's eyes widened behind the mask, his heart pounding in his chest. _Oh God, Oh God..._ Sam's mind scrambled to come up with something to say. He couldn't say 'Sam'. "Chris - Christian," Sam answered, keeping his voice low, trying to disguise it.

"Christian," Dean nodded, raising his arm and then catching the sword that the trainer threw him, swinging it around. "What parts are you from, Christian?"

Sam tried to remember where it was Christaina had said her family hailed from, his own, well, Dean likely knew. "From," Sam stammered around the subject at a loss for a moment before he remembered what Christiana had said, "Stratford upon Avon, my lord."

"You've journeyed far to come to our little tournament. Why do you want to join the ranks of my men?" he asked, circling Christian, noting his reactions as he tracked his movements.

That answer was easy and flowed from Sam's mouth without thought,"I have dreamt of becoming a knight since I was a youth, my Lord. It is something I want more than I could ever express." Sam answered, watching Dean's movements carefully. 

 

"Surely they recruit in places closer to your home," he answered. He knew that most prefered to recruit the sons of other nobles, but between here and Stratford, there had to be plenty who went to the people, same as him. Not all would be knights of course, most would not. One had to distinguish himself, learn the ways of knighthood and adhere to the rules, a long process. 

Sam bit his lip behind the mask, "Aye," he gave a nod, "I desire to battle evil, to be a knight, where I am from, it isn't the easiest thing to break into. Sometimes one must travel far from home to fulfill their destiny."

"So you think you have a destiny here," Dean's sword swung around cutting through the air. "Show me." He attacked, pleased that his opponent was not caught off guard. The testing began, and he was a lot harder on the youth than his trainer. He put more strength behing his thrusts, their clashing swords left showers of sparks around them. He moved around more, forcing the candidate to use more of the Eastern arts, watching as he spiraled, made butterfly kicks and did reverse springs as if he'd already trained with Dean.

For as good as Sam did, the match ended the same as all Sam's matches. One move that Sam was either not expecting or one where his attention would be pulled elsewhere and Sam found himself flat on his back on the ground, the tip of Dean's blade at his throat. _Shit!_

Leaning up on his elbows, wanting another round, wanting to prove himself, his jaw held at a stubborn angle, Sam glared at Dean through the mask. It was only Kate's yell that stopped him from trying something foolheartedly like re-engaging Dean in another fight. 

"Sam, that was good, STOP!" Kate's voice rang out across the field and Sam's head fell back with a huff, before he let his elbows slid out from under him and he laid back against the ground. 

Dean turned, searching for Sam, his gaze slowly going down to the man laying on the ground, his heart leaping to his throat. "Get up." No, he would not believe it. Samuel would not risk his life, would not leave the castle without his orders, would not disobey him like that. "Take it off."

Sam pulled to his feet and reached a hand up, angrily ripping the mask from his face with a huff, shooting a glare toward Kate before his gaze returned to Dean. He hung his head with a sigh and bit his lip, "Welcome home, my lord." Sam mumbled softly.

Dean's jaw tightened. He pointed to the tent that had been set up for knights to rest and be armored when their turns came. "Inside." He strode behind Sam. 

One look at Dean's thunderous expression, and the men were climbing over each other to get out of the tent.

Exactly one second later, Dean started shouting. "When did you start to disobey my orders? From the moment I rode out of the castle walls, or before, when you were making false promises? I told you, you are not to leave the castle... and here you are. I told you, you are to keep safe. Have you any.... any fucking idea how many get injured during trials? How many drunken fights ensue, how many limbs are lost? And yet," he advanced on Sam, grabbing him by his tunic, drawing him close, "you dare to put your life in danger, and mine. I have half a mind to lock you in a tower, so start talking."

Sam's eyes narrowed, the tilt of his chin becoming more stubborn, defiant. "I did _not_ disobey you. I grew bored waiting at home for you like some sort of woman who was incapable of more! I got the knights to train me! I started to live out _my_ dream! To be a knight! It's what _I_ want to do! I did not lie to you about that out there on that field! And I am good at it, you _know_ I am! Even Charles says that I am," Sam told him, then pressed his lips together, nostrils flaired.

"I don't fucking care what Charles says, you are--"

"I am not your damsel in distress that you can lock in a tower and come to me when you need a good lay, Dean! I am capable of more! I _am_ more than that! Kate sees it, Christiana saw it, why can't you!?" he shook his head. "I was in no danger, no more than when _my friend_ asked me to come see her and you kept that from me, not even allowing _me_ to make that decision." Sam stared at him, eyes narrowed into angry defiant slits.

"This is NONSENSE. Who has been filling your head with it? You," he pointed at Sam, "are _my_ innocent. I say where you live, where you go, what you do, and what you may not... same as Kate's master, same as any husband in the land. That is the LAW, and you Samuel, are NOT above it. I make my decisions for you based on concerns about your safety... what is best for you. I am better able to judge this, you lived in a monastery all your life, you know not what it is like out here."

He saw Sam preparing to argue. "Who walked out of Sir Harry's castle, like a trusting fool?" he demanded, never wanting to replay that day in his mind. "You think you are ready for this world, but you are not. And I won't let you end your life... I won't be a party to that, now drop that sword."

Sam's jaw clenched as Dean threw the kidnapping in his face, grit his teeth hard so that he didn't say something he might live to regret. Slowly Sam's gaze went to the sword in his hand, then back to Dean. "No," he told him, voice soft, deadly, defiant, as he shook his head slowly, "I have more of the competition left." Sam told him, side stepping to walk past him toward the enterance flap of the tent.

In two long strides, Dean reached him, grabbed his arm and swung him around. "No. You are done. Not one of them will raise a hand to you now, not one." Releasing him, Dean left the tent, leaving instructions that no less than five of his chosen watch over Sam while he was outside the walls. 

Sam threw the sword down in anger, long strides taking him out of the tent. "I need a horse!" Sam shouted to the men outside the tent, and saw that they now paused before listening to him after having snapped to his orders for the past months, their gazes going between himself and Dean. 

"Ten men, and he is not to go beyond the village," Dean grit out, stalking toward the stands to do his own duty, even if his willful innocent would not to his.

* * *

Hours later, a very grumpy Lord Winchester returned to the castle with Kate at his side. His men would know not to allow Sam to roam after dark, but he'd fully and foolishly expected his innocent's return by now. The clatter of horses on cobbled ground was calming to Dean as he approached home, but when they drew to a halt far from the entrance entry, his eyes widened. "What the fuck is THAT?"

Kate's gaze slowly drifted from the castle before them to Dean and back. "Why that is your lordship's flower garden," she tilted her head, "And vines crawling up the side of the castle wall, Sam and I worked hard to get it to do that," she nodded then looked over at him, eyes wide, "why?"

Seething, he tensed. "Those are in the way of the horses. We have _gardens_ for flowers," he said, talking slowly, as if she were the village idiot. "And those... he pointed to a few locations, "are a security issue, we need a clear view. James... take care of the problems, rip them out."

Charles gave a rueful smile. "It's not completely blocking the way Dean, I checked..." Feeling blazing green eyes turn on him," he raised his hands. "We'll pull away those vines that pose a risk, and take out the garden."

Dismounting stiffly, Dean headed inside. By now, his innocent should have been under him thrice over, helping to rid him of the toxic taint. He strode inside and came face to face with an animal. "What is that?" he demanded of staff, and those behind him.

Kate paused at Dean's side. "That would be your Lordship's pet deer," she nodded her head toward the animal further out, "and your Lordship's oxen," she nodded again, "and your Lordship's pigs." she answered. "Truly my lord, Sam is going to be most displeased that you are ripping out the flower garden, he is the one who gave me permission to plant them where I wished," she bit her lip, "And some of the villagers who could not pay funds they owed the castle, Sam settled for their work tending the plants." 

"He did, did he? Get those animals out," he shouted, his boots ringing against stone as he lengthened his strides. "Has this place been turned into bedlam? By God, when I get my hands on him," he bellowed as he slid on a substance that had him landing hard on his ass. "What is this?" His fingers dipped into the shiney substance.

A shaking servant came and bobsied. "We were told to keep the hall oiled, sire. Master Samuel and Mistress Kate like to slide--"

Seeing red, Dean got up and headed for the library, yelling for liquor, before slamming the door shut.

* * *

Sam walked toward the library door, knowing he was about to be screamed at, likely locked in the tower, _if_ he were that lucky and anything else that Dean could think of. Taking a deep breath as he reached a hand out, fingers curling around the door handle, Sam pulled it open and stepped inside. 

A fire burned in the small fireplace, but save for that the room seemed to be devoid of light, the sun having gone down moments prior. Dean's back was turned to him as he stood just inside the door, figeting nervously, before he squared his shoulders and held his head high, jaw at a stubborn angle. "My Lord."

Dean snorted. "Your Lord... pah... who do you think you're kidding?" He waved his hand around, "not me." Closing his hand around the goblet, he drank more of the fire water, letting it burn all the way to his gut. 

Sam crossed the room, standing just a few steps away from Dean. "I do not see what has happened to make you say that you are not my Lord, did you want me to sit here like an old maid and do nothing? Knit you a bonnet!" he scoffed and shook his head, "I found things to occupy my time, things that made me happy. Why is that so wrong!?"

"Why is it wrong?" Dean laughed again, sloshing some of his drink. "It's I who have been like a woman... allowing you free rein, to make you _happy_. All I asked in return... _all_ I wanted was your safety. But you..." he turned and pointed at him. "You are willful, and ungrateful. You were trained, trained by the best. Did they teach you to disobey? Did they teach you to walk out of the monastery where you could be taken by any? Did they teach you to stand before a sword?" 

Sam opened his mouth to answer, brows furrowed in anger, ready to yell back at Dean to tell him that he _was_ safe, that he had done _nothing_ wrong, that he was not hurt, that the training had helped him _not_ to be hurt and he had _not_ left the castle walls _until_ the day of the tournament.

Dean got up, held onto the edge of the desk, then sat back down. "Did they teach you to disregard the first duty of an innocent?" His burning gaze met Samuel's.

Sam's jaw clenched, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, before he crossed the small distance seperating them, climbing onto Dean's lap, front to front and slanted his mouth over Dean's, kissing him with the force of his anger before finally tearing his lips away, "No, I know my duty as an innocent well," Sam told him breathlessly.

Dean put his hand between their bodies, preventing Sam from coming closer. His mouth burned, ached. His core demanded the purity that belonged to him, demanded to be cleansed. His breaths came out harshly, but he pushed his innocent away. "You wanted love, I gave it to you. But you return it with this... my life... my castle in shambles... my name... a laughingstock... What will you do next? Put me in a dress, and then ride off on my horse?"

Sam narrowed his eyes and backed off, standing to his feet. "I have done NOTHING! So I learned how to use a sword, so what!? What? It vexes thee that I have blisters now!?" Sam huffed and ran a hand through his hair. "I can do this! I am not some child! Stop treating me like I am! You heard me in that house, I know the exorcism rituals better than you do! I can wield a sword now, all I need is more practice and training! Let me! Take me with you! Teach me!"

"Now you _ask_ " Dean gave a bitter laugh. "Now." As if he hadn't gone against all his wishes. He laughed again, "you would make the worst knight. I would say go right, and you would go left... just to thumb your nose at my orders. I would ask you to stay in one place, and you wouldn't be there upon my return. I would take your promises, but they wouldn't be worth more than the ashes in the hearth, because you would conveniently forget them. Go to your room, Samuel. I am not pleased." He felt tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.

Sam clenched his jaw, stepping closer, then leaning down, hands braced on the arms of the chair in which Dean sat, "I would be the _best_ knight," he told him, voice soft but angry. "I would do as you asked, when you asked it, as long as you did not treat me as though I were less of a man than the rest. I have _never_ taken back a promise, I did _not_ leave the walls of the castle just as you asked me, until today, when you would have asked me to anyway." His hazel eyes searched Dean's face, "And I would _always_ be there when you returned."

Dean's eyes started to flutter closed as he anticipated the touch of his innocent's lips. Already, his nearness was instilling a sense of calm, countering the darkness battling inside him long after he vanquished the Witches of Eastwick.

Sam pulled back. "No. _You_ go to your own room, _Dean_ , I am _not_ your child." With that Sam pushed away from the chair and turned toward the doors.

"You act like one." Dean poured another cup of fire water down his throat, washing away the disappointment and bitterness. He had seen first hand how some treated their innocents, and they did not have abuse heaped on them for their troubles. Maybe they knew better, maybe he was too kind, too gentle, ruling with too light a hand. Maybe the dream... yes he had dreams too... his dream of being welcomed by the arms of his innocent after months of celibacy... was as foolish as his attempts to behave as if this was a love match.

* * *  
Sleeping in his own bed had not been the way Sam had foreseen the first night of his lordship's return, but it was pointless to draw this battle out and seeing one another again that eve was only going to do just that. 

So instead, he had taken his night time stroll with Kate, as he did when Dean was away, had walked her to her room and bid her Good Night then calling all the animals from Dean's still empty room, had ushered them all into his and closed the door. 

Apparently he had either risen before his master or Dean was avoiding him, either way, Sam and Kate had enjoyed breaking their fast together then wandered outside to where the knights trained, Sam frowning hard as he watched them over her shoulder. "It's not fair, you know?" he glanced into her face, "I am good at this, I know what I am doing. He's just..." Sam sighed and shook his head, "being difficult." 

Taking Kate by the hand, he led them closer, so that they stood at the railing. With a side glance her way Sam licked his lips, "Have you - have you even _seen_ him this morning?" Sam asked her then shook his head. "I have no idea if he was even here last night or if he ever left the library. He makes it sound like I deliberately went behind his back and did the direct opposite of what he asked me to. Never once did he say, 'Samuel, do not train to be a knight'!" Yeah, he knew that was unfair, but it was still the way he felt.

"I know how you feel, as surely as I know my own master would have locked me in the tower for even threatening to learn swordplay," she said, laughing at the image that conjured in her mind. "Dean is ... he's a good man, but like all Lords, he has his pride, and he has these notions that have been bred into him. You're going about this the wrong way... just like a man, launching a full frontal assault." She shook her head, "you need to think more like a woman."

Sam frowned and quirked a brow, "Because I _am_ a..." he sighed and ran a hand through his hair, "alright, _how_ would a woman handle this?" he asked, one hand on his hip as he cocked his head to the side.

"You go at him from the side. You don't argue with him when he says 'no' ... you act as if you accept his word as law, he is after all your lord and master," she gave him a not-so-docile smile. "Then you find ways, little ones, to make him change his mind... make him think he has come up with this idea himself. That is how you deal with a high and mighty master... one that loves you."

Sam quirked a brow, "Make him think he is right? But he isn't! He's being an arse! Tell me, what harm have I come to in all this save for the blister on my thumb you tended for me!? Hmm?" he shook his head and sighed, then eyed her, "You are sure this will work, for as lovely as they look on your arm, I do not wish for a trinket to wear." He reached for her hand, lightly shaking her arm so the jewel encrusted bangles clanked together musically.

"You couldn't pass for a woman if you tried," she pointed out. "Especially now... with that formidable sword... arm.... of... yours." She laughed and spoke as he tickled her ribs, rolling away from him with tears in her eyes. 

* * *

It was close to suppertime and Dean had yet to eat. He'd been avoiding his innocent, just as his own men had been trying to avoid him. His temper was quick to rise and he would not suffer fools this day. Of course everyone else blamed Sam for his mood, and some of the men were trying to help by sending wenches to Dean.

He was in the stable, having just dismounted and washed his face in a bucket of water, when he looked up and saw her, a milkmaid. Only he recognized every worker at the castle and knew no milkmaid who would show off her assets like this woman looking at him like he was God's gift to women, or worth several pieces of coin if she were successful. 

"G'day m'Lord," she said, hips swaying as she walked up and knelt in front of him, giving him an eyeful. "I came to offer thanks, for the bounties of the land, and for your kindness." She put her hand on his thigh. "May I repay you?" She asked in a sultry voice, one hand straying up toward the ties to his britches.

Sam had walked toward the stable, having seen Dean ride in. They had avoided one another enough and it was time to put an end to it. Walking to the entrance, Sam clenched his jaw, muscle twitching as he narrowed his eyes on the woman before _his_ master, on her _knees_ no less. 

"Only if you want to have your head severed from that body you are displaying rather rudely." Sam answered for Dean, voice clipped, "I believe _that_ would be _my_ job." Sam took another step into the stable.

"Samuel," Dean's voice held a warning. 

"Sire?" she moved closer to Dean, wanting to succeed, that coin was important to her.

Sam's gaze flicked up to Dean's then returned to the woman's. "I am not joking," he told her voice low, deadly, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides as he slowly shook his head. "Get up, and get out. NOW!"

"Leave us," Dean echoed, waiting for her to get up and flounce toward the door. His gaze, dark with the taint he'd been carrying, darted to Sam. "Come take your place." Seeing the blank look, he added. "Clothes off."

Sam licked his lips, watching as the woman rose and flounced past him, sticking her nose in the air as she did. His gaze returned to Dean, eyes darting about the stable, "Here, my lord?" Sam asked him, taking an unsure step closer.

Dean merely stared at him, already expecting him to counter, to refuse, to try to make other deals.

Sam's mouth opened, then closed without a word as he reached for the hem of his tunic, drawing it up and over his head, toeing off his boots, then reaching for the laces of his breeches, his gaze never leaving Dean's as he did. 

Once he had everything removed, he took a step closer, until he stood directly before his master, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "As you wish," Sam told him softly, leaning in to slant his mouth over Dean's.

Instantly, Dean's hand went behind Sam's head, drawing him closer, holding him in place as he pushed his tongue deep inside his mouth, demanding a response. His other hand went to Samuel's hip. He dragged him up hard against his frame, aware that his belt must be digging into his innocent's soft skin, but unable to control himself. He'd waited long for this, and he was still filled with fury and disappointment. His innocent had a lot to make up for.

Sam grunted against Dean's lips, his hands rising to fist in the shoulder's of his tunic as he kissed him back, sliding his tongue along side Dean's and tangling them together. One hand slowly sliding up to cup the back of Dean's neck, fingers threading through his short soft hair as he moaned deep in his throat.

Need slammed into Dean full force. The word 'slow' was not in his vocabulary anymore, not with the toxic acid rushing through his veins and igniting with Sam's nearness. He devoured Sam's mouth, kissing him, battling his tongue as his hand moved between them and he undid his own belt, then his britches, pushing them half way down his legs and rubbing himself against Sam through his brais. 

He groped his lover with rough hands, then closed his fist around Sam's cock and started to stroke hard and fast. "As I wish? You know exactly what I want," he said distinctly, moving his hand faster, with purpose. "I've told you, over and over."

Sam gasped and moaned, writhing against Dean, his hips bucking, thrusting his cock into Dean's fisted hand. Drawing in a breath through his teeth as he clung to him. "Mmm, oh, Auuggh, ohgod," Sam groaned." His back arched, hips moving faster, head falling back, as he panted through parted lips.

"You don't listen. You make me wait..." he tightened his fist, moving it mercilessly over Sam's hard cock, leaning forward, he licked his throat, nipped him. "Wait when you know... know damned well, I cannot, I should not. That there are demons... riding me." The instant he felt Sam's pre-cum, he coaxed more from him and pulled away. "Turn," he nodded toward the post. 

Sam gasped and strained, fingers digging into the material of Dean's tunic as he held onto him. He licked his lips, "I - I didn't mean..." he groaned, bucking his hips, his cock aching and throbbing for release. "Ohgod, Dean..." a small keening whimper sounded deep in Sam's throat before he tore his hands away from Dean's tunic, turned and gripped the pole.

As soon as Sam was leaning with his hands against it, Dean used his precum to wet him, to prepare him, pushing his fingers inside, trying to spread the liquid as far as it would go. He reached for his own cock, smearing his own wetness over Sam's puckered hole. He bent down, kissed the perfect globes of his ass, then pushed his fingers... two of them inside him, watching his fingers disappear. "You belong to me... you're mine... and you act as if you don't know this." 

Sam gasped, groaning deep in his throat, arching his back and pushing against the fingers in his ass, even with the slight burn the feel of having them there again after months with nothing, no one, had his cock twitching and pulsing as Dean loosened him up.

Standing up and aligning himself, he wrapped one arm around Sam's waist and started to push inside, "Mine," he thrust until he was balls deep and groaning at how tight, how perfectly _his_ innocent closed around him. "Mine, do you hear? Mine to hold..." he thrust again, "to care for..." 

 

Sam groaned, head falling back, lips parted as he panted out his breaths, face flushed. "Oh, mmm, Auggh, yeah," Sam writhed pressing back against Dean's cock. "Hear you," he moaned, his head falling back, "yes." Pulling a hand away from the pole, he reached for his cock and began to stoke himself, hips thrusting his shaft into his hand, even as he ground back against Dean's cock in his ass. 

"To fucking protect. Mine," Dean growled, sliding his hand down over Samuel's, his cock surging deep inside his innocent as he felt the proof of Sam's arousal. He wasn't gonna be able to last long, the dark within him was already tearing him apart, and he needed Sam's light... needed it and could only obtain it through release. "I tell you to stay," he thrust, "you stay." He thrust, "I speak. You listen. I say no, you don't question." Each statement, each demand was punctuated by a strong thrust, until Dean's head was swimming, his hips grinding, the sound of skin slapping growing louder, a counterpoint to the groans. 

Sam's head was spinning, sensations searing through his veins, heat and pleasure, even a small amount of pain that oddly, so he thought, seemed to make it all that much better. "Auugh, Yes, god, yes," He moaned and groaned, sounds breaking from his throat that were nearly obscene, each one louder than the next. Had he been of a right mind his stubborn willfulness might have disagreed with Dean's words, might have had something to say to each one, might have added a 'but' to each command, luckily, the only thing Sam was left with were unintelligible sounds and the writhing of his body as his climax drew closer.

He pulled Sam's waist slightly away from the pole, forcing him to a lower angle, kissing his shoulders as he closed his eyes. "Come. Now. Now," he repeated as he balls drew painfully tight. 

Sam tensed, arched, as if his entire body were hanging on the edge of a cliff, heat pooled low in his stomach, his cock pulsing in his hand, balls drawing up, face flushed, head thrown back. "Dean," the name hushed, torn, cracked as he nearly held his breath before his entire body seemed to spasm and jets of hot spunk shot from his cock. 

"Samuel," he shouted, then bit his innocent's shoulder as he came deep inside him, releasing his seed in strong spurts, finding both physical and spirititual release. 

Sam gasped and tried to nod, to answer, to form coherent thought, but only managed to groan softly as he road out the last of his orgasm along with Dean.

Holding on to him a while longer, Dean licked the spot he'd left teeth marks on, then kissed it. His cum was spilling down Sam's legs, his insides felt liquified, but peace was starting to settle within him. He pulled out, bent down and picked up Samuel's brais, using them to clean both of them up, then turning Sam around. 

Searching his face, he felt is heart get crushed within a fist. All those months, he'd waited, waited to come home to this, to _him_. He'd resisted temptation, at every noblemen's home, offers of daughters, of servants, of tavern wench's. There was only one person he'd wanted, and it had hurt him like nothing else could, to have the door between their rooms shut once again. He slanted his mouth over Sam's, this time kissing him slowly, more tenderly, mapping his mouth, recalling his taste and feel as his hands slid down to his ass and he squeezed. "If only you meant half of what you said," he said, almost sadly, as he released him. He passed him his breeches, and walked to the door. "Get dressed."

"Dean, wait, I -" Sam pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I don't want to fight, I missed you." He sighed, tilting his head slightly to the side, eyes searching Dean's face from where he stood, "please."

He was silent a moment, but inside him, he was much calmer thanks to the purification. "I was... looking forward to a different welcoming," he said. "All those months under siege, I built the moment up in my mind." A muscle pulsed in his jaw. "I don't like surprises, and I never had these..." he waved his arm, "crazy notions of..." _Love._ "We'll get it right," he said. "I don't want to fight you either."

Sam gave a nod and reached for his clothes. "Dress me? And we can kiss while I dress," he smiled slightly, "and you can tell me how much you missed me," he grinned wider.

Dean looked outside, then walked back in. "Who's been dressing you in my absence?" he asked, helping him get his breeches on, then pulling them up to his waist. He stood up and started tying them, even as he leaned in for a kiss.

Sam didn't answer Dean's question right away, but leaned in, opening his mouth up for his lord, tongue darting inside to tangle with Dean's. When the kiss ended Sam smiled at him, "Oh, I've had a lot of help. _Tons_ of help, not a night has gone by that my bed, uh well, your, uh, _our_ bed hasn't been stuffed to over flowing." He shrugged a shoulder, "not like I could sleep alone in that huge thing." He smiled wider, "And don't even ask about getting dressed. I think they liked to hide my clothes on me! It was hunt for the clothes every morning," he nodded, "It would take me forever before I got out of there." 

Dean gave him a contemplative look. "Hmm. We have ghosts." He nodded gravely. "I'll take care of that." Straightening Sam's tunic, he twirled the brais on his index finger as he started to walk out.

Sam chuckled and shook his head, "It wasn't ghosts! They're alive! At least they better be! It was all the animals I had in there with me! The goat tried to _eat_ my breeches one morning!" Sam told him, eyes wide, "And Kate was here! What would I have done with no pants!? I had to wrestle that thing for twenty minutes!" Sam said as he hurried after Dean, reaching desperately for his brais.

Allowing him to steal the underclothes back, Dean watched in amusement as he stuffed them into his waistband. "Your new cat is named goat..." he shook his head, wrapped an arm around Sam's back and walked him toward the castle. "What are you looking at?" The men backed off, but they looked relieved, and all-knowing.

Sam thought that maybe it was better he _not_ explain that Sir John was still Sir John and that when he said goat, he meant 'baaaah' goat. Yeah, definitely best to not bring that up right now. 

They were heading for the stairs and Sam started to fidget nervously knowing that in Dean's mind he had a small zoo in his room... well, at least they were no longer in _Dean's_ room. Stopping before the door, Sam motioned toward his own. "Um, I should, Uh, my room.... just need to take care of something." He bit his lip.

"I was hoping to bathe before supper." Noticing the nervous look on Sam's face, Dean refused to budge, and waited for Sam to open the door. "I'll accompany you."

Sam nodded, "You can bathe me." He smiled slightly, but then a near whine tore from Sam's throat before he shook his head at Dean wanting to accompany him into his room. "No, really, it's okay, I'm just checking on, erm, the goat... you know my cat," he bit his lip harder.

"I'd love nothing better than to see your cat." Dean kissed him. "You know your love of animals is ... catching. Here goat..." he made some animal calling sounds, then stared at Sam's hand on the door handle.

Sam hung his head with a sigh and turned the door knob, letting the door slowly swing open. A goat lay in the center of the room, the lamb in the center of his bed, the cat on his pillows, there were three of the dogs on his bed, four on the floor and one in a chair, the ducks had taken up home on a table and there were piglets running around on the floor squealing. Standing near the window were two fawn and from the top of the door fell a single egg from a chicken, just narrowly missing Dean's head. 

Sam slowly looked over at Dean, biting his lip. "Um, surprise?"

Dean looked down at his feet, wiped his boot off onto the rug. Looked at Sam. Then at the animals, one at a time. His jaw tense again, his muscle pulsing. He rubbed is eyes, gripped Sam's wrist and pulled him out of the room. As a servant passed, he barked out an order. "Everything but one cat and one dog... out of that room. Air it out."

"Aye your Lord--"

Dean opened his door, looking carefully first to make sure it wasn't filled with creatures. Then he walked in, turning to face Sam. 

Sam covered his face and waited for Dean to scream at him. 

"That is a zoo. That... will not happen again. Dear God, are you touched?" He rolled his eyes. "One cat, one dog... repeat after me, Sam. One cat, one dog."

He slowly pulled his hand away from his face. "One cat, one dog," he nodded, "I know," he looked up slowly, "I was just lonely. No one would talk to me. No one would spend time with me, I might as well have been here alone! They," he gestured toward the door, "they were all I had. I'm sorry."

"Kate, I had her brought to you. Charles, do not tell me he ignored you. There are scores of people in the castle... you cannot have been THAT lonely." He marched away, opened the door to the ante chamber to see if a bath was being drawn. Satisfied that it was, he turned back. "You are saying those animals... replaced my company. Dogs, cats, lambs... a fawn! Did you have worms and maggots too?" He raised his hand, "please do not answer that."

"Kate arrived later and no Charles would leave the room whenever I entered up until it was Kate and I! Everyone acted as though I had a disease! It was not my fault! I tried to talk to them, to get them to talk to me, play a game perhaps, something! But nay, no one wanted me around! When Kate came, the animals were already sleeping with me, I - I didn't have the heart to tell them to get out." 

His jaw clenched and tears stung his eyes as he continued to answer Dean's questions. "No my lord, no maggots or worms nor fleas or ticks either." He huffed and shook his head, "I knew you would not like it, but you were not here," he blew out a breath, "I was planning to be rid of them before you came back, but then," he sighed, "everything else happened. I was trying to get them out tonight before you saw so you wouldn't get mad." He shook his head, "Just.... nevermind, yeah," he nodded, "I am, I'm touched. Mayhap you _should_ just lock me in the tower."

"Don't tempt me." He snapped before he saw the distraught look on Sam's face, and the tears, and felt his heart stutter. Opening his arms, he pulled Sam into his embrace. "I'm sorry, sorry love. You're not touched, I didn't mean that," he stroked his hair and held him close. "I forget how sheltered you were, that you might not know ... everything. There's no harm in what you did." His mouth slipped over Sam, touching. "Don't shed tears over this. It isn't worth it."

Sam sighed as Dean held him, clinging to him, arms wrapped around him. "I just missed... it was cold and, they were warm..." he gave a small tearful chuckle, "until they pushed me out of the bed and onto the floor." He smiled slightly at Dean, drawing in a ragged breath and burying his face against his neck. "M'sorry," he mumbled against his skin softly. 

"No... don't be." He heard the knock letting them know the bath was ready. "Come... I think we'll have an _active_ bath," he grinned, still holding onto his innocent. "I believe it's my turn to tell you a knight and innocent story... I was thinking... a tower...a nude innocent... and a pair of _fur cuffs_ , what do you think?" He knew very well his innocent would have no idea what he was talking about, and that by the time they left that tub, his skin would be flushed not only because of the temperature of the water.


	10. Chapter 10

Several weeks passed. Kate was escorted back to her own household, but Dean made inquiries and found a few youths from noble families who wanted them fostered in another household as they trained for knighthood. He selected those who he thought might make good companions for Sam, though at the very last moment, he did allow Samuel to have a say in the selection. He was surprised his innocent didn't insist on it, but was pleased that his asking for Samuel's input put a smile on his innocent's face. The new trainees would not arrive for another month, but Sam seemed pleased he would have others approximately his age to talk to.

Dean made certain to spend as much time as he could spare with his innocent, not because he had to, but because he found it rewarding. He also enjoyed it when he found Sam following him around as he made certain the castle was secure and defensive measures were being maintained. He had the feeling his innocent was like a sponge, taking in everything he said. He became certain of it once when he was explaining something to one of his men for nigh the fifth time and getting frustrated and Sam stepped in and gave a more simplified but correct explanation. Aye, he was learning.

He was learning alright. Once, Dean was holding court, meting out justice to the locals as they complained about neighbors stealing, or wagon having killed a chicken, or a man being cuckolded, when Samuel joined him. The things... the ideas he whispered softly into his ear between cases had Dean hot and ready to force Sam under the table. When they finally left together, he was sure he was limping. Samuel's explanation ... he'd heard some of the tavern wenches speaking...

True to his promise, Samuel never again spoke of leaving the castle alone or training. Dean took him out on those occasions when he deemed it safe, and his innocent saw a lot... learned about the evil lurking in the world. He helped in subtle ways, never seeking credit, but Dean always felt his eyes... seeking approval. For a period of over a week, Dean had struggled with unraveling a text regarding a difficult ritual. He could read and understand the words of the ritual, but had difficulty understanding what accompaniments were needed for the protective spells. One morning, he went to his desk and found all of the cryptic text translated for him and left on a sheaf of parchment, in Samuel's own neat bold handwriting. He'd taken Sam out that day to find him another blasted pet he did _not_ need.

Quite soon thereafter, Dean had found a few texts on his desk, each left open to a page relating the adventures or relationships of certain knights and the innocents they took on hunts with them. Samuel never spoke about them, although he did request that the harper sing some songs relating to one famous pair who hunted together. 

Now, Dean was in the training pit, testing those new recruits who had started their training. He looked up to catch Sam leaning against the fence post, chin on his hands, staring at them with a look that literally pained Dean. He'd proven himself over the past month or so, been obedient, showed good common sense, become a good horseman, had not sneaked out, and had subtly helped many issues that arose at the castle, never expecting credit or anything else. 

"Sam. Sammy?" Dean called. When his innocent looked up, Dean nodded for him to join him. "Show me what you got."

Sam's heart rate kicked up a notch at Dean's words, lips parted as he looked at him for a long moment before his lips spread into a wide grin and Sam gave a nod. "As you wish, my lord," he said the words softly, only Dean would have heard them.

Turning, Sam nodded to one of the others to toss him his sword, which Sam caught and turned, ready to show all that he knew, to prove himself at last.

He was beyond nervous, worried that a stupid move, a wrong turn or kick would have Dean sending him back into the castle, but pushing that aside, Sam let himself be carried away by the fight, putting his all into it, until he did not even think about Dean being there, did not think of the training yard or the others around him, in his mind it was just himself and the one he fought, and Sam refused to allow himself to be bested. The stubborn tilt of his jaw bespoke this, the narrowing of his slightly slanted eyes and the way he held his shoulders.

He gave his 'enemy' no ground, did not hold anything back, attacked with a vengeance and defended with all that he had, every slice of his sword, every kick and turn was strategically placed and well aimed.

Others started to circle around, watch. It wasn't only because Sam was being allowed in the training yard, an event unto itself, but because they knew that each time he got through Dean's defenses, it was for real. Dean gave no quarter when he fought, training or otherwise, so while his offense would be gentler, his defense usually was not. Samuel had gotten a few good hits in there, gotten past those defenses, and it was something to be proud of. 

Dean didn't know when it happened. At some point, he told Sam to drop the sword and they were in hand to hand combat. One moment he was testing him, and the next he was training him. Yelling at him, riding him as hard as he did any of his other men, driving the life saving lessons in. By the time they were done, they were both dusty, and standing on his feet, he reached his hand out to pull Sam up off the ground. "Go see the healer about that bump to your head before dinner." Seeing he was about to argue, he added, "if you plan on another session tomorrow."

Sam snapped his mouth closed, standing there for a moment, before he nodded and hurried off toward the castle at a run, two of the dogs chasing and barking behind him, a wide grin on his face. He would have to write to Kate, tell her he got his 'trinket' and thank her for her wisdom. Entering the castle, Sam let out a loud whoop as he jumped up to slap a beam before heading off to do as Dean told him.

It hadn't taken long with the healer, Sam complaining more than anything else as a small bandage was placed on the goose-egg that had formed on his forehead. The skin was just barely split and Sam kept telling the woman he was alright, but the old lady seemed to be as worried as Dean when it came to his health and finally Sam let her have her way, cleaning it and bandaging it as though it were some horrific catastrophe.

Not ten minutes later, Sam was running back out of the castle, sliding as he stopped short, across the surface he and Kate had asked to keep oiled. Of course Dean had put an end to that, but the surface was still slippery if you had a running start and locked your knees right.

Laughing as he exited and headed back toward the training area, Sam came to a halt on the other side of the fence, hands upon the surface of the railing as he looked at Dean expectantly.

His gaze was focused on Sam's forehead for a moment, but Dean could see that he was fine and that a 'suggestion' that he take a nap would be met with an argument. "Why do you look like the cat who ate the canary?" Raising his brow, Dean nodded at the trainer to take over with the others, and grabbing the fence, jumped over to Sam's side.

Sam smiled, taking a step back as Dean came over. "Cat who ate the canary, my lord?" Sam shook his head, "No, not I. Just," he shrugged a shoulder, "happy." he licked his lips and cleared his throat. "And you are...?" Sam quirked a brow as he eyed Dean.

"The wolf who ate the cat," Dean grinned. "Happy," he nodded, leaning in to steal a kiss in front of his men. 

Sam smiled wider, blushing slightly as he leaned in to meet Dean, opening his mouth to him, even as heat burned his cheeks, knowing that others were around, watching, seeing.

Wiping Sam's mouth with his thumb, Dean pulled up. "I hope I didn't tire you out. We're going into town tonight. There's a festival, I thought you might enjoy." He hadn't said anything about it before in case he himself was called out on a hunt because there was no way he'd allow Sam to go alone, but things had worked out fine. "In addition to a lot of _animals_ , there will be dancers, and a market, and music...oh yes, philosophers ... bookish business."

Sam smiled at him, nodding, his eyes widening as Dean spoke, "Sounds wonderful, and _no_ ," Sam told him shaking his head, "I'm not tired, I'm fine, really. The healer was too worried over nothing," he pointed at the small bandage, "I think by supper I can take this thing off." Sam rolled his eyes. "Was just a scratch really." he nodded. "Are you going to dance with me, my lord?"

"I am not much of a dancer, but if you like," he nodded. "If I trod on your foot, you've been warned."

Sam nodded, biting his lip and smiling, "I would like that very much," his gaze dropped to Dean's feet then moved back up to his eyes, "I have two feet, I'd live, and if it were horrible enough then you would just have to tend to me in bed,"he added, blushing.

Sliding his hand down Sam's arm to his wrist, then lacing their fingers together, Dean headed for the castle. Sure he heard a few snickers from the men, but it wasn't about to prevent him from doing what he wanted. 

Sam bowed his head, his smile wide, though his cheeks were burning a bright shade of pink. His hand tightened slightly on Dean's as he glanced up at him, his smile wide, showing dimples and making his eyes shine. Let the men snicker, Kate would say they were just jealous, and maybe it was so.

* * *

 

It was a fine night. They were dressed warmly and had gone to the festival with a guard of 20 knights who would roam the grounds to watch for trouble. Bonfires dotted the grounds, the smell of food permeated the air, and music was heard from all sides. Pretty wenches, and some not so pretty ones walked around selling turkey legs, sausages, and pasties. Drinks were a plenty, so were drunks... you had to watch where you walked for fear of tripping over one.

Dean had watched as Samuel played some of the games, rolling a round stone and knocking over weighted boxes, throwing knifes and darts, and he didn't know which game Samuel had won, but there he was coming toward him carrying an atrocious stuffed... what the hell was that? His rounded eyes reflected his horror as Sam returned flanked by two knights. 

Sam was ginning from ear to ear as he approached Dean carrying his rather gigantic prize under one arm. It was stuffed, supposedly, or so the man continued to insist, straight from India. Killed, stuffed and brought over. Yeah.... right. But, it was still a lovely tiger, no matter if it once had been real or not.

Frowning as he neared Dean, Sam glanced over his shoulder, surely it was not him or the knights flanking him that gave Dean that horrified expression. "My lord?" Sam asked, quirking a brow and reaching out with a free, well, barely free hand, to touch Dean's forehead. In the process of which, he nearly dropped the tiger, but one of the knights caught it for him, just in time.

"I'm fine," he pulled back, eyes still on that thing. "What a..." he coughed, his eyes watering as he caught Peter laughing at him. "What a nice... _thing_. Mr. Parsons over there," he pointed to a man, "will be happy ... thrilled that you are giving it to him... for the orphans, the little children with no toys, no stuffed... _things_. They will be so very grateful."

Sam's smile eased a bit as he looked over, then looked down at the tiger in his arms, before looking back over at the man, just as a little girl ran over to him, her face smudged with dirt, her red curls in disarray.

Sam gave a small nod, jaw set and headed over to them. 

Crouching when he reached them, so that he was the girls height, his attention going back and forth between the man and the child, Sam ended up handing the stuffed tiger over to the girl, a wide smile on his face as she hugged it and then him tightly.

Pulling up to his full height and slowly backing away as he bid her goodbye and good night, Sam walked back over to Dean and sighed, nodding. "I think she liked it."

"I think it found a good, loving home," Dean quickly agreed, then snapped his fingers. "Mead for Sam." A moment later, a goblet, one they'd brought with them, was filled, and passed to his innocent. "You'll like it, it tastes like honey," he said, leering at him.

Sam smiled, eyes wide, "Honey?" he asked, tilting the cup and taking a large drink. Sam had discovered he had a slight love affair with honey now that he was allowed to eat it when the mood struck him. At the monastery, everything was in portion and nothing expected to be savored for that was a sin.

Peter joined them, his mug of ale sloshing over. "You did well at the games. Mayhaps you should win another prize..."

Dean glared at him.

"... to bring home..."

Dean frowned at him, tried to push him away without Sam seeing.

"... to the castle," he suggested.

Sam laughed and shook his head, "I think if I win again mayhap I should give it to those children back there," Sam's smile fell for a moment. "It's horrible being a child without toys," he smiled wide again, "You grow up into..." he shrugged his shoulders, "me."

A silence fell over the group. 

Dean nudged Sam with his shoulder. "There's only one you, which is a good thing because I'd have to go fight for any other 'yous' that were around. Come on, _perfect_ , have another sip, then pass it to me."

There was some catcalling at his Lordship having called the innocent 'perfect.' 

Sam smiled at Dean, his cheeks slowly turning a shade pinker, before he took another drink and wiping his mouth with the back of a hand, passed the cup to Dean.

Sam leaned close, whispering in Dean's ear. "And now I can make my body _and_ my mouth smell and taste like honey for you." He pulled back and started walking backward talking to Peter about the last time he seen a carnival and other such nonsense, though he was watching Dean from the side of his vision, a mischievous light in his eyes.

Dean smacked his lips, and watched Sam over the top of the cup like a predator following its prey. He trailed after them more slowly, listening to someone else speaking but his eyes were always intently focused on his innocent who'd learned to flirt with him.

"His Lordship is in good spirits, don't tell me you were in the stables with him again," Peter said, laughing, knowing that Samuel and Dean were sharing some unknown secret between them.

Sam grinned and shook his head, "Nope," he could feel his face warming as he blushed, "I just," his gaze caught Dean's even as he spoke to Peter, "suggested perhaps he would like a bit of honey before he sleeps." He shrugged a shoulder innocently. "Nothing more."

"Ah... if I were you, I'd be careful. He might want _honey_ before you leave the festival, and then you'll miss it," Peter drawled just as Dean caught up to them.

"Stop corrupting my innocent, I'm the only one who gets to do that."

"Corrupting, I wouldn't think of it," Peter winked. "You're doing a damned fine job of it yourself."

"Huh," Dean looked suspiciously at him, then put an arm around Sam's waist. "Do you want to look at trinkets or go to the gypsy corner? The dancers are a sight to behold."

The word 'trinket' made him think of Kate and her arm full of jewelry and he nearly laughed as he shook his head, "I think gypsies sound better." he nodded. 

"This way then," he swept Sam along with him, holding the goblet to his mouth as he let him have some more mead. It was deliciously sweet but also quite potent. "They ply you with mead in order to loosen your purse strings," he explained. They slowed down at the kissing booths, watching a few Knights claim their kisses.

When one of them came back, Dean said with a straight face, "I have it on good authority that one has the pox."

The man started to force himself to retch.

"I don't think that will cure you," Dean said, applying his foot to the man's ass, as they laughed and walked away.

 

The Gypsies were colorfully dressed, the women in layers of skirts that they whipped up as they danced by the fire. Their hair was piled high, and they arched backwards as their castanets clattered and set a beat. 

"They're like exotic birds, and no Sam... we cannot take them home," Dean said, averting the question amidst laughter.

Sam's eyes were glued to the dancers, lips parted as he watched in awe and shook his head, swallowing. "No, don't want to," he muttered softly, still watching, nearly without blinking. "They - they're beautiful." 

"Yes, which means make sure you keep a close check on your money purse. They can talk any man into spending himself into debtor's prison."

"Or just spending himself," Peter added, his eyes just as glued on the dancers as Sam's.

Sam tore his gaze away, blinking before he looked over at Peter, "Huh?"

Peter licked his lips."Just look at her... imagine those perfect breasts on your face... her teat in your mo--"

"Imagine no such thing," Dean snapped his order to his innocent.

Sam jumped at the curt order from Dean, turning his head slowly to look over at him, eyes wide. "I didn't-" Sam clamped his mouth closed and pointed at Peter. " _He_ did it!" 

Turning his attention back to the dancers, Sam shook his head. _Imagine what?_ He frowned and tilted his head to the side. When he looked at the girl's face, all he could see were Christiana and Kate and Stephanie and countless other innocents he had grown up around. Sam visibly shuddered, but didn't say anything, returning his attention to the dancing, the tossing of their skirts and the way the bells on their ankles and hips jingled as they moved.

Dean watched Sam watch the dancers, a frown forming on his forehead. "Don't you want your fortune read?" He distracted Sam and pointed at the small tents. From experience, he knew the fortune tellers were old and scary looking. 

Sam tore his gaze away from the dancers, lips parted, again that same look of awe on his face before he licked his lips and turned his attention to where Dean was pointing. "Oh," Sam nodded, okay." He started to step away, moving over to walk next to Dean.

"We should get one of those," he shrugged a shoulder, "you know, for after dinner," he glanced back at the dancer, "I like her skirt, and the colors, the bells," he looked over at Dean and grinned, "unless you think we can get Peter to dress up that way."

"We wouldn't want to lose our dinner," Dean answered, unsure whether to laugh at the joke, or be displeased at Sam's desire to take one of them home, after all.

"By all that's holy!" Peter took a step forward as one of the dancer's arched back so far her long hair almost touched the ground. 

Sam turned around quickly at Peter's outburts, eyes wide, before he scoffed. "Pfft, we use to do that as kids in the monastery yard. It's not a big deal to bend like that," he shook his head, turning back around.

Very pleased with Sam's response, Dean nuzzled his neck. "You'll have to show me in our room. I'm quite sure you'll get more than a 'by all that's holy' from me," he nodded, kissing his ear and then standing in front of the tents. Women stood at the entrances, beckoning. "Which one?"

Sam frowned as he looked from tent to tent and shrugged his shoulders, but then he saw her, the little old woman who was sitting on a rock outside one of the tents, looking cold and rather hungry, or at least to Sam it seemed that way. She wasn't beckoning like the others, just sitting there with her shoulders hunched, her head hanging. "That one." Sam nodded toward her. 

"Alright. Just... don't believe everything she says, and no more than two coins, and that's being generous," he warned him. As Sam headed for the tent, one of the knights went inside first to make sure it was empty, and another one stood guard on the other side of the tent. 

Finishing off the mead, Dean held the goblet out for refilling, then looked over his shoulder and was not surprised to see Peter among the dancers, making a fool of himself.

As Sam drew closer he offered the woman a kind smile. After they spoke softly for a moment, Sam followed her inside the empty tent. She led him to a table that was draped in red linens and held a large crystal ball in the middle, which she moved to the side as she asked for his hand.

Sam sat biting his lip as he looked from his hand to her face and back, then back again as she smoothed her weathered hand over it again and again. Finally, the old woman sat back, smiling almost bashfully at him as she shook her head. "I'm sorry, young man, I am having a hard time here, old eyes, and you have such soft hands," she clucked her tongue. "I need to get my daughter," she nodded, "younger eyes will be able to do this for you. I am sorry, sir. It won't be but a moment," she told him, before releasing his hand and slowly pulling to her feet, shuffling out.

Sam pulled his hand back and narrowed his eyes looking at his palm. _What was wrong with his hand?_

A moment later, the tent flap opened again. In two strides, _HE_ reached Sam, bent over and kissed his ear as he pulled him up out of the chair, turned him around, and sat him on the small table. Cupping Sam's jaw, he looked into his eyes, searching for emotions... electrifying them... causing them. "I need you. Right now."

Sam swallowed and looked around. "Here?" his voice was a tad louder than he had wanted it to be, "here, my lord? But, the old woman just went to get her daughter, I'm sure they will be back..."

"They'll stop her from coming in until we're ready." He pulled Sam's face close and kissed him before he could argue, delving his tongue inside and shuddering at the pure ecstasy, the sort only virgins and innocents could provide. He groaned and moved his tongue deeper, tangling it with Sam's, as his hands started to roam over his body. _Want me.... Want me.... burn for me..._

Sam's arguments were cut off as he found himself pulled into a deep kiss, effectively muffling anything he had to say. He started to give up, give in and let this happen, after all, if it was what Dean wanted, then he wanted it too. He wished they were not in a public setting _again_ , and he had thought he made that dislike abundantly clear after the cottage, but, fine. 

It was only as Dean started to touch him, grope him as though he had never touched him before, the way his hands moved, the way he was manhandled, that Sam started to protest again even as his breaths quickened, his heart pounded deep in his chest, and fire raced along his veins to pool in his cock. 

Sam shoved back against Dean, "No, no, stop!" Sam told him, pushing and trying to pull up from the table.

"There's no stopping, not now," the knight answered in a seductively velvety voice that was hard to resist. He gripped Sam's wrists and pinned them to the table, then leaned in so that his straining cock rubbed against Sam's. "Need you.... you need me too," he pointed out, rubbing himself harder against him. _Your mind will flood with lust. Your body will scream for mine. Your blood will burn with need. You cannot resist... you will give me what I want._

He melded his mouth once again with Sam's in a savage, punishing kiss, one meant to show him that resistance was futile. He would have Sam, he would have everything he needed. His lust, his need, his love, his soul, his life... all of it.

Sam thrashed under Dean, something was not right, something felt _off_. He opened his eyes even as Dean kissed him, mouth open, but not engaging himself in the kiss as he looked around the room for something to use as a weapon. Finding nothing right off, Sam decided to do the only thing he could.

Tearing his lips away, Sam nodded, "Yeah, want you too," he told him, "just," he glanced down at his wrist, "just lemme go, wanna _feel_ you, please." Sam strained up against Dean, letting himself moan low in his throat.

He let him go even as he sent out tendrils of feelers, seeking Sam's lust, needing to feed from it. He started to push him down on the table, one hand moving between Sam's legs, squeezing his hardening cock. "Going to fuck you so hard now... have to be quiet," he warned, starting to climb over Sam.

Sam grunted as the guy, who was definitely _not_ Dean squeezed his cock. He hid the cringe at the words he used, only nodding as he watched him, hazel eyes darting to every movement that was made. Sam licked his lips and reached for the guy, pulling him down as if into a lovers embrace, just as Sam grit his teeth and then pulled his knee up into the guy's crotch.

As he doubled over, Sam rolled off the table, hooking a right swing at the guy, punching him hard in the face, before turning and kicking out, his foot landing solidly in the guys stomach.

The incubus' eyes flashed red as he smashed into the table. "Not so smart," he snarled, unable to understand why this one resisted him so. He didn't care, he wanted him now, would not give him up. He attacked Sam bodily, both hands closing around his throat, even as he tried to force thoughts of lust into Sam's mind.

Sam's hands went to the guy's at his throat as he arched his neck, eyes darting, looking for a weapon. Sam's face started to turn red, then deep shades of maroon as his windpipe was obstructed. He staggered back, crashing into items, knocking things over, the thing never letting go.

At some point, Sam heard the old woman screaming about a monster, but never saw if she was alright or where she went, just heard her voice grow quiet.

Blackness hovered at the edges of Sam's vision just as he saw it, the tip of pointed silver gleaming in the small tendril of light that was spilling in through the thick flaps of the tent. It was on a side table with other things he couldn't make out. Releasing the thing's hands at his throat, Sam reached for the blade and missed, his hand returning to the things hands at his throat to try and pry them away once more. 

Staggering back again and knocking over more items thatscrashed and broke upon the ground, Sam reached out, grabbing the blade and overturning the table in the process. As he turned it in his hand, Sam thrust the blade upward at the thing, sending the knife deep into it's heart.

As the sounds of fighting were heard from outside, the tent was torn open by knights with drawn swords, Dean stepping inside in time to catch.... himself. "What the...?" His eyes flew to Sam, then back to the thing. "Are you ...?"

Suddenly, his mirror- image started to pull away. Dean wrapped his arm around it's neck and dragged it off its feet. "What did it want? Sam?"

Peter ran to Sam's side. "He needs to know what it is, Samuel," the older man put his hand on Sam's back, "was it trying to make a deal with you?" 

Sam was gasping in breaths, and half leaning against a post in the tent as he sneered at the thing. "It wanted," he started, breaths still panting out as he looked up at Dean then back down at the thing, "it wanted to _fuck_ me." Sam spat, before doubling over and starting to retch, expelling her taint from his body.

"Incubus." Peter and Dean said at the same time.

Dean punched it in the face a few times, then threw it into the waiting arms of a few knights. "Do not let it go."

Even as he spoke, the thing re-shaped itself into a naked man with big black wings. It screeched like a harpy, causing people to put their hands over their ears. Then it started to struggle in earnest, its claws drawing blood. The silver dagger stayed firmly lodged in its chest.

Dean looked around and grabbed the crystal ball. Setting it on the table, he glanced at Sam, assuring himself he was fine, then started a trapping ritual. The ancient powerful words slipped from his mouth, causing the incubus to get more violent. He stayed away, out of reach, and kept speaking the words. The incubus started flickering... turning to smoke.

Pointing his finger, Dean made the smoke follow it, all the way to the crystal ball, speaking louder until all of the smoke went inside the crystal ball. Letting out a breath, he wiped his brow with is arm, and tossed the ball to Peter. "Take care of that, pay the Gypsy for a new one, and the tent." He was at Sam's side, holding him, pulling him close.

Those in the tent disappeared, although the tattered tent offered no privacy. "Are you alright. Did it hurt you?"

Sam shook his head as he wiped his mouth with a back of a hand, "No, I'm fine. It's okay," he nodded, though he was sure he likely had a few bruises around his throat. "I thought it was you... at first, but then it didn't take long to figure out that it wasn't." Sam told him shaking his head. 

He looked around the tent then, frowning, "That old woman, was she alright? It didn't hurt her did it?" Sam asked, turning his head this way and that searching for her. 

"She's fine, being taken care of." Dean moved Sam's chin up, touched the marks on his throat, his expression suddenly thunderous and at odds with the softness of his voice. "Are you pain anywhere? Thank God you brought a knife." 

Sam shook his head, "No, I'm good," he told Dean and leaned in, his forehead against Dean's. "it's okay, really. I took care of myself." Sam grinned, "I had a good teacher." He frowned as he pulled back, "I didn't bring a knife, I got it off a table over there where we were fighting."

Dean nodded, pride warring with relief. "Not many recognize an incubus for what it is. They are extremely good at trickery and at stimulating ... needs. It would have killed you if you had... succumbed." A muscle pulsed in his jaw as he looked intently at Sam. He didn't want to imagine a world without his innocent in it, couldn't. 

"Yeah, well, after just a couple minutes I was the one tricking him," Sam told him with a nod and a proud grin. "He sure didn't see _that_ coming."

"Thank you." He hugged Sam. "For saving yourself." Holding him tight for only another moment, he pulled away. "Let's ride back."

*

Before they mounted, toasts were raised to the newest 'demon fighter' amongst them. Dean was proud, but unsure whether he was happy about where this was headed. However, once they were on the way, Peter and the others easily teased him into a good mood.

"Samuel, how did you know that thing wasn't his Lordship? He was his spitting image," someone asked.

"He was not, I'm far better looking," Dean said.

Sam shook his head, "It was not the look that let me know," Sam informed, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "There was an ant upon the table and when Lord Winchester did not take out his sword and slay the mighty beast to save me," Sam nodded, "I knew."

"Perhaps he did not take out his sword because he has but a dagger," Peter countered.

Dean raised his hand to silence them. "I have neither a dagger, nor a sword. I carry a lance... and Samuel knows the difference between my lance, and that thing's..."

"Sausage," someone suggested.

"Nay, Samuel tell us how you knew."

Sam was snickering with the rest of them until that moment. Turning to look at Dean he smiled softly, a blush coloring his cheeks. "The eyes,"

At the other men's groans and scoffs, Sam nodded in earnest. "It was, that monster's eyes lacked the warmth of my lord's." Sam said almost softly, though he continued to look only at Dean, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"More than my eyes will be showing you warmth tonight," Dean said, only for his innocent's ears, smiling back at him but trying not to look like a besotted fool. "Ha..." He hastened the pace, wanting to quickly make good on his word.


	11. Chapter 11

It was nearly a week later, night had fallen and they were in the library after supper, Sam pouring through books and sipping on wine sweetened with cloves and honey, Dean and Peter sitting near the fire, drinking tankards of ale and chuckling as they spoke.

Sam glanced up from one of the books he was reading through, or trying to, his vision starting to blur from the wine, his skin feeling warm, head swimming in a comforting haze. "See that thick book over there?" Sam nodded toward the black leather bound one laying to the side from the others on the shelf. "Kate and I read to each other from that book. Informative," he nodded, lowering his gaze back to the book in his hand. "Of course it said something about me needing to stroke your prostate," he shook his head, not looking up, "but I seriously don't think that is going to happen seeings as well, where it is and that I don't..." Sam started to grin drunkenly, his cheeks turning a deep rosey pink.

Peter coughed, spewing his drink under Dean's glare. "No I think you _should_ look for his..."

"You shouldn't be reading from that... that _medical_ text," Dean said, "and Kate. Sir Harry is going to have my head."

"Oh no, if they read it right, she'll have _his_ head," Slapping his knee, Peter laughed.

Dean started to chuckle, then he started to laugh, his eyes on Samuel. 

Sam nodded, "Yeah, we read about that too, and cunnilingus, Menage a Trois, aphrodisiacs, nipples," he started to sing song the words, "pegging, rimming, testicles, and the clitoris," Sam looked from Dean to Peter, "which by the by, looks like a lily," he told them with a nod. 

"Let's hope you did not acquire any _practical_ knowledge about these things," Dean said, his voice velvety soft. "Besides, most of them are illegal."

Sam frowned in confusion. "Practical, my lord?" he shrugged a shoulder, "I dunno, I guess it was practical, I mean, it made a heck of a lot more sense than some of the positions they were describing in that other book with no pictures!" he shook his head, "Kate and I _still_ have no idea _how_ they expected human beings to do that stuff. 

Reaching up as he stuck out his tongue slightly, Sam took hold of the tip between thumb and forefinger. "And that cunnilingus, how does your tongue not cramp up?" he released his tongue, wiping his hand on his breeches as he looked from Peter to Dean. "What!? I just figured it would, I mean, according to that book there is a whole lot of licking and..."

"Would you care to demonstrate it again, I missed--"

"Shut up, Peter. There's no such thing as a tongue cramp, you didn't hear me crying out with _the cramp_ this morning when I--"

Sam's eyes widened, "My lord!" his gaze darted between Dean and Peter, before reaching for his cup and downed the rest of his wine.  
Setting the cup aside, Sam wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes still on Dean. "My lord, when you mentioned those, um, what did you say," Sam frowned thoughtfully, "fur-lined cuffs," he tilted his head to the side. "Why?" he nodded toward the book, "there was nothing in there about those."

Peter's shoulders shook. "Yes, milord, what did you mean?"

"Nothing... it's nothing, Samuel. Carry on, find something else to read." 

Sam shrugged and turned back to the books, climbing the ladder to get to the ones higher up.

Dean's gaze met Peter's, and he started to chuckle. "What? You think I should?"

"He's adventurous."

"He's innocent."

"Not with that impish smile."

Dean's gaze went to Sam, then came back to Peter. "He's far too gentle of spirit."

"He fucked up an incubus. Think about that."

"So you think I should tie him up?" Dean asked, heat rushing through his system at the thought.

With a huff and a few muttered words of annoyance, Sam frowned at the book he wanted, a few feet out of his reach. He would either have to climb back down the ladder and move it or...

With a grin, Sam stepped off the latter, holding onto the top of the bookcase and slowly made his way across, feet dangling.

Getting a good grip on the shelf with one hand and part of his arm, Sam released with the other to grab the book and and pull it from it's place. Sam's mouth fell open hearing Dean's words, "Huh?" he asked, turning his head toward the two men discussing _him_. The book slipped from his fingers and hit the floor with a loud 'thud.'

Dean shook his head. "I said 'no' to monkeys, so now he acts like..." he waved toward Sam who was still hanging off the shelf. "Samuel, you do know that there are only four of those books in the Kingdom.""

Sam pressed his lips together, returning his attention to making his way back over to the ladder and down. Jumping off the fifth rung, Sam looked at Dean. "Why do you want to tie me up?" he asked, before turning to walk over and retrieve the book.

"The question is... do you _want_ to be tied up?" Dean asked, his gaze intently fixed on Sam. Damn Peter for putting the thought into his head.

Sam frowned, "Well, why?" he glanced toward Peter and shifted his weight, feeling awkward about discussing this with someone else there. "Why would you want to do that," he frowned more, "don't you trust me to hold still." He swallowed and turned a light shade of pink before hanging his head. "You, uh, know what I mean," he mumbled softly.

"Peter." One word from Dean, and the other knight left the room, closing the door behind him.

"I trust you to hold still." Dean nodded. "I'd like to know if you trust me... to take you when you're tied."

Sam looked up, biting his lip and suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. He crossed his arms over his chest, let them drop, fumbled with them in front of himself, then crossed them again and shifted his weight. "Uh, yes, I - I guess so. I mean," he frowned at Dean and licked his lips, "I don't -" he shook his head, "I don't understand."

"C'mere." Turning his chair so it was facing away from the desk, he crooked his finger at Sam. Already his mind was filling with images of his innocent helpless and needy, unable to move, to help himself, at his mercy. It wasn't something he'd planned on showing Sam this soon, but now...

Sam stepped over to Dean, setting the book down on his desk as he stood before him. "Yes, my lord?" Sam asked softly and licked his lips.

"Closer."

Once Samuel was standing right in front of him, Dean reached out and caressed his sides, feeling him tense beneath his hands and seeing the way he nervously licked his lips. "I would never hurt you," he said, meaning every word.

He got up, stood in front of Sam, grabbed his wrists, then turned them so that he had Sam's hands pinned behind him to the desk top. He kissed him, moving his mouth over wet warm lips, tangling his tongue with Sam's then pulling away. He moved close again, his gut clenching as Samuel's pink tongue flicked out of his mouth to touch his, but he didn't allow it. He teased him with half and 'almost' kisses, knowing the exact moment that he started to get frustrated. "If you're tied up, you can't touch me. I'm in control... you're at my mercy. Fur cuffs around your wrists would hold you like this, for me." 

Sam gazed at Dean through lowered lids, lips parted. He nodded, "Uh-huh," he tried to lean forward and capture Dean's mouth in a kiss again, but was unable. "And so, you want to tease me?" he bit his lip, arching his body against Dean's, a soft moan escaping.

"Tease you." He moved his mouth over Sam's ear. "Own you." 

Sam's breaths hitched, his eyes sliding slowly closed. He arched against Dean, moaning softly as he bit his lip. Licking his lips, Sam tried to pull his hands from behind him, making a frustrated sound when he couldn't. "Wanna _touch_ you," he breathed the words softly.

"No, it's not how it works. I touch you. I play with you. I say what we do, how much we do, and if... not when... but _if_ you can cum." His eyes burned with heat. "Is it too much for you, little innocent? Do you want to pass?"

Sam made a small whining sound deep in his throat as he tried again to arch closer to Dean, to rub against him. Breaths panting out through parted lips, Sam shook his head. "I -" he bit his lip and nodded, "Okay, okay," he practically writhed as he half stood, half leaned there against the desk.

"Are you sure?" Dean released him. "If you're not ready for this, don't say you are. You know there are a hundred other things in that book." One last chance, but if Sam didn't take it, Dean was going to have his way.

Sam's eyes opened completely, nearly wide as Dean released him. "I-" he nodded and swallowed, "yes, I mean," he bit his lip, "it's different and intimidating, but, I want," Sam reached out grabbing onto Dean's tunic and tugging him closer. He nodded, "Want this," he nodded, biting his lip, cheeks a soft pink.

"Me too," he answered in a lust roughened whisper. "Take my belt off." It was made of soft golden cord, and would be perfect. 

Sam chewed his lip as his gaze slowly lowered to Dean's belt before he reached for it. Nimble fingers unfastened it, then he slowly pulled it out from around Dean, his gaze darting up to meet Dean's as he did. Lifting the belt, his gaze never leaving Dean, Sam swallowed and gave a nod. "Your belt, my lord."

Dean took the cord, his expression serious, not giving anything away. Sit down." He waiting until Samuel did so, then he moved behind him. Grabbing his hands, he pulled them behind the chair and then efficiently tied him up so he could only move a few inches forward, but that was all. "Relax."

Sam's jaw was clenched, his back ridgidly straight, hands curled into tight fists as he sat there. Dean telling him to relax didn't really help much, but he made a conscious effort to at least seem more calm, as he licked his lips and sat back in the chair, though his heart was hammering in his chest.

Walking around the room, Dean put out all the candles so that the fire was the only source of light. 

Sam's gaze followed Dean as he snuffled out the candles. A perfectly normal thing that they did every evening, the task, something he tried to focus on to relax, to get his heart to not beat so fast.

Moving behind the chair, he looked down, allowing Samuel to hear him take something out of his drawer. 

Sam swallowed tensing back up, any amount of relaxation he had found in watching Dean with the candles gone as soon as he could no longer see him, knew he was behind him, _somewhere_. Hearing the desk drawer slide open, Sam frowned slightly, licking his lips as he wiggled in the chair, wrists moving, tugging slightly at the cord around them.

"Is your heart pounding?" Dean asked, bringing the cold metal of the dagger to the side of his innocent's throat, pressing the flat of the blade as he dragged it downward, allowing him to feel what it was.

Sam cleared his throat before answering. "Y - yes, it is, m- my lord." His gaze dropped down as the blade was dragged down his chest, lips parted, breaths panting out. "Mm-my lord?" Sam's chest started to rise and fall heavier as he watched the blade, hands curling into fists behind him.

"Hmmm?" Dean retraced the trail, bringing the blade up to Sam's mouth, expertly twisting and turning the knife to trace his lower lip, then slipping it into his mouth. "Suck on it. As if it's me," he said, voice dark and dangerous. "Slowly."

Sam watched the blade as Dean slid it back up, shrinking back slightly against the chair, lips parted. Sam held utterly motionless as Dean traced the blade over his bottom lip, barely daring to breath, small grunts leaving him as he tugged at the cord around his wrists. 

As the blade entered Sam's mouth, his struggles stopped, eyes darting up to look at Dean, heart hammering loudly in his chest, breaths panting out. Slowly, Sam closed his lips around the blade, his eyes closing, a small whimper leaving him as the fear of cutting himself ran through his head.

"Take it," Dean insisted, pulling the blade out until only its tip remained buried in Sam's mouth. "Suck it, make it real."

Sam's eyes fluttered open to look up at Dean, before he tried to do as he was told, sucking softly on the tip of the knife, nostrils flared as he panted out heavy breaths, his hands squeezed into tight fists behind his back.

As he watched Sam's cheeks hollow, as he fucked his mouth with a deadly weapon, the one person he loved above all others and for whom he would give his life, Dean stopped breathing. All of his blood drained down to his cock, the thrill of excitement riding him hard. He heard the metal clink against teeth, swallowed, moved it from side to side. "Release it. Push your tongue out."

The sight of the silver blade resting on Sam's tongue as he pushed out had Dean's gut clenching. Leaning down, he replaced the blade with his own tongue, wrapping it around Sam's, then kissing him hard. He pressed the blade first against one side of Sam's face, then the other, using it to force Sam's face to the angles he demanded.

Sam sighed softly, relaxing and kissing him back only to stiffen a moment later as the blade was pressed to each side of his face, keeping him where Dean wanted, how he wanted. Sam groaned into Dean's mouth, a small whimpered whine leaving him as he fought to arch into Dean and away from the blade.

"You make such pretty sounds," Dean whispered, constantly moving the blade, making sure Sam knew who was in control, and how this was going to happen, when he could kiss, when he'd have to stay absolutely still. "Give me your tongue," he demanded, and then he sucked on it so hard, he heard Sam's gasp of pain. "Mine. To do with as I want," he reminded him, and then shoved him back against he chair.

Flicking the dagger to one side, he ripped Sam's sleeve from shoulder to cuff, biting his lips at the way his innocent jumped slightly. He repeated the motion a few inches over, then ripped off the strip he'd created. "They say you can hear better when you can't see, you'll have to tell me if that's true." Just for a minute, he brought the sharp edge of the blade to Sam's eye, then laid it on Sam's lap as he brought the strip of cloth to Sam's face.

Sam's lips parted, eyes widening as his heart hammered in his chest as Dean brought the blade near his eye. Did he really think Dean would hurt him? No. But, that didn't prevent his automatic survival instincts from kick in and it didn't make the sudden fear that gripped his chest and nearly knocked the wind from his lungs any less real. His gaze followed the knife to his lap, before his vision was suddenly blocked, soft cloth being tied around his head, cutting off his ability to see. "D-D-Dean? W-What are you doing?" he licked his lips and tried to see through the blind, under it, something, somehow.

Sam's head turned this way and that as if trying to shake off the blindfold, wrists tugging hard at the cord wrapped around them, before his head fell back, lips parted, breaths panting heavily out. "Mmm, please, I -" he bit his lip and tugged again at the restraints, before he seemed to resign himself to the fact that he wasn't going anywhere and sat still, his lips pressed together and nostrils flaring.

"Please what Sammy? Hmm?" He dragged the blade down his throat. "Can you feel this more? Can you hear your heart beats? With nothing to distract you... you should." Dean's softly spoken words were a counterpoint to the sudden slashing of the knife that rent Sam's tunic into two. Grabbing the material on Sam's shoulders, Dean pulled again, roughly, tearing the remainder of the cloth, leaving Sam practically bare chested.

Sam nearly jumped, his breath gasping out in a rush as his clothes were torn from his body. His head lowering as if he could see himself, though he couldn't, before his head fell back again, a small whimpered whine leaving him. "Yes!" he nearly shouted the word, then spoke softer, nearly a tortured whine, "Yes, I can feel more, hear my heart," he struggled slightly, "yes..." 

So beautiful when he was scared and confused, so fucking beautiful. Dean felt the breath rush out of him as he parted Sam's knees, then kneeled between them. He blew on Sam's chest, concentrating over his nipple, paused, then scraped the blade down over his skin, hard enough to leave red marks in its wake.

Sam's head slowly rolled as a long deep groan left him at the feel of the blade scraping across his skin, sucking in a startled breath at the near pain as it left marks he couldn't see, but could feel the sting of. His breaths panted out, making his chest rise and fall with each one. Pressing his lips together, Sam let his head fall back once more before his lips parted and his tongue darted out to wet them.

Sam's reaction to the pain sent shocks of excitement through Dean's body. He used the blade again and again, licking Sam along the same trails, soothing him, comforting with his wet tongue, pushing him to pleasure, pain and pleasure until neither of them knew what was coming next. 

Sam tried, wanted to buck his hips upward, to feel Dean's body pressed against him, to be touched without the bindings, without being forced to stop, wanted to be free to touch back, to hold and caress, to hear Dean's own answering moans. His cock was hard and aching in his breeches, even as his heart beat out a fearful rhythm in his chest. He didn't understand it, confusion warred with his desire and fear, small tendrils of fear, even as he _knew_ Dean wouldn't hurt him, not really, wove their way up his spine making him whimper and struggle, his breaths catch and pant harder.

"Dean, I can't..." he tried to move, to buck his hips, to be granted contact, "it's too much...." he shook his head, "I dunno..." he groaned deep in his throat, gritting his teeth as he writhed in the chair.

Dragging the tip of the blade in a circle around Sam's naval, then putting it inside, he sucked his breath, watching Sam's stomach tighten. He could tell Sam was holding his breath, trying not to press against the knife, especially now when it was in such a sensitive spot, where just a little pressure would give pain even without cutting. 

"Can't what?" Dean pressed a little harder, knowing his innocent couldn't... wouldn't speak because that would mean he'd have to take a breath, or move. "Can't take the heart beats in your ear... you know you love that. Can't take how hard you're getting when you can't do anything about it?" Leaning in, he allowed his hip to rest between Sam's thighs, not touching him where he needed it. "You know how much I love that." 

Sam turned his head, lips pressed tighter tightly as he held his breath, a small grunt of breath left him before he gulped in a small breath to replace it, not enough to move his chest, his stomach, any part of his body, and totally not enough for what his body was screaming for. His head was spinning, body aching to be touched, caressed, to rut against his master, to be filled.

His head turned again, lips parting just slightly as his tongue darted out to lick at his bottom lip, forehead creasing, before his head fell back, he shook his head, a small grunted groan leaving him.

"Seeing you like this... I want you so bad, Sam. Want to be on you... in you... want to lick you all over." Every reaction from Sam sent new heat flooding through his system. Flicking the knife downwards, he cut Sam's breeches open. 

Sam grit his teeth, a stifled cry broke from deep in his throat, head hanging as he turned it to the side, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists behind him, nostrils flared as he fought to take in shallow gulps of air.

Lowering his mouth over his innocent's belly, he started to lick his way down, biting suddenly when he was low on his belly, and tearing the trousers completely off his legs in one motion. 

Sam's head rolled, falling back as a long low groan tore from his throat, head shaking, thrashing.

An audible gasp left Dean as he stroked Sam's cock with the blade, over his brais. "You want to come out to play, don't you?"

The muscles in Sam's thighs rippled, his feet shuffling slightly against the floor before he raised his head, taking in air through his teeth, "Oh God, yes..." he groaned low, "please..."

"That's good, begging," he nodded in approval, and made short work of the brais. His head dipped down, he almost licked Sam's arousal, just preventing himself and blowing his hot breath over it instead. 

Sam's face contorted into a look of almost pain as he turned his head to the side, lips parting as he panted out his breaths before biting his lip and letting his head fall back, arms tugging at the bonds holding him. "Naaagh!"

"Mine Sam... your cock, mine... I decide where it goes, when it goes, _if_ it goes in my mouth. You'd like that, wouldn't you... Mmmm I'd like it to." Licking his lips, he skimmed his mouth very lightly over Sam's shaft and moved back.

Sam whimpered, the muscles of his stomach rippled as he tried to move just slightly to find Dean's mouth again, and not be cut by the blade.

Dean ran the blade up and down Sam's inner thigh, while his other hand gripped Sam's hip, his thumb move back and forth over his smooth warm skin, close to his cock, teasing him with touches that never came. "Say my name. Beg... plead with me for what you want. I wanna hear you. I love to hear you." 

Sam shook his head, muscles tensing, teeth gritted together. "No," he growled out, "Don't wanna beg, no," he pulled hard at the bindings, face turning red with his efforts, muscles tense, as he grit his teeth, "Aaaugh!" his head fell back as his lips parted, breath panting out before he gave a tearless frustrated sob, "Pleeeease!" he lifted his head, "Shit!" he actually yelled the curse word.

"Please... that's... that's good... but not enough," Dean said, never letting the knife stay in one place. "Don't move..." Stubborn innocent. "My mouth is so close Sam, so close. I want to lick your balls... I want to press my tongue down right in front of them, like you like... but I don't hear you asking. I might have to leave." He let his breath ghost over Sam's cock, showing him he was telling the truth.

Sam jerked at the bindings, "No! Don't! Don't go.... please...." he writhed and groaned as his head fell back. "Please, Dean, please touch me, I need...." he lifted his head only for it to fall forward, teeth gritted together, jaw set in stubborn lines. "Uuggh!" his breath panted out, tongue darting out to run along his bottom lip. Swallowing, Sam nodded, "Okay, okay, I - please, put your mouth on me, I need you. Please Dean, I need you...."

"Careful, you'll nick yourself." Holding the knife to Sam's belly, he dipped his head down, found that spot between the back of Sam's shaft and his sack, opened his mouth and sucked on it. Hard. 

Sam's eyes widened behind the blindfold, his lips parting on a loud, long cry of pleasure and frustration as his head tilted back. 

Form that moment on, he was merciless, teasing, sucking, licking Sam. Taking one half of his sack in his mouth, then the other, but refusing to allow him to move, using the knife to enforce his will. "Open your legs wider," he demanded, knowing the movement to the side would make him need to move in the thrusting motion he wanted even more. He started licking the base of Sam's cock, wetting him, giving him pressure then taking it away. In between licks, he asked Sam if he wanted to be inside his mouth, but refused to lick up past half way up his cock.

Time proceeded, time filled with sweet torture, torture that made Sam ache and writhe. Moans, groans, mewls and grunts sounded from him non-stop; sounds Sam had never heard himself make before, had never thought himself capable of making, vulgar sounds. His head, the only part of his body that he seemed able to move, thrashed, as he alternately grit his teeth, parted his lips, opened his mouth wide or pressed his lips together. Precum ran down the side of his aching and pulsing cock as he threw his head back, a scream of frustration leaving him. "PLEASE!"

Slowly, Dean sucked the liquid running down Sam's shaft, and made his way to his tip. Taking it in his mouth, he sucked on it, playing with it, humming. 

"Oh sweet God..." Sam groaned out, face contorted in a look of pain.

Dean's own cock fucking ached with need, need fueled by Sam's need, by the sounds coming from him. Pulling his head back, he pulled the knife away, just to watch his lover.

"So beautiful Sam... so beautiful." The way Sam's hips instantly thrust in the absence of the knife had him smiling. He put his hand out, loosely holding Sam's cock, allowing him to fuck into it for a while. His mind was planning bigger, better things, his arousal pulsed between his legs, making him want to touch himself just the way he was touching his innocent.

Sam panted, thrusting his hips as hard and fast as he could even as he shook his head, "No, more... I need more..." he grit his teeth, "TIGHTER!" he growled out, voice loud, demanding. His nostrils fared, as he bucked harder, nearly lifting half out of the chair, grunts and groans leaving him.

Dean breaths were definitely labored, coming out harshly as he spoke. "Me too... I need Sam... need so much... need to see you like this, need to want you like this. Oh God... if I were standing behind you..." Leaning in, he gripped Sam's shoulders and started to pull him forward as far as the bindings would let him, and melded his mouth over Sam's, fucking his mouth with his tongue, stabbing it in and out of the wet cavern, stroking him, leaving him under no doubt as to who was in control.

Sam groaned into the kiss, sliding his tongue along side Dean's, trying to arch his body against him, even as the bonds held him tight.

"Want it... do you want it Sam? Want it as bad as me?"

Sam panted in and out his breaths, lips parted. He nodded, "Oh God, yes, yes, please..." he arched and writhed, frustrated sounds spilling from his lips.

Dean got up suddenly and moved behind Sam. He cut the cord holding Sam's arms behind the chair in half, then got up, and pulled the naked boy into his arms. For a few minutes, he kissed him, arms running down his body, groping him, allowing him to stretch his arms and to touch. The sheer desperation in his kisses and touches was almost Dean's undoing. One little push, and he might have just laid Sam down on the ground or taken him upstairs or on the table, like they both wanted.

Now free, Sam couldn't get enough, enough of the feel of his mouth against Dean, hands running over him, Dean's touch against his flesh. He still couldn't see, and maybe that made it all the more intense, Sam wasn't sure, but he felt as though he were on fire, his entire being set aflame. Breaths panted out, even as his lips crushed Dean's, his hands running over his lord in bolder ways than he ever had before, _needing_ it, needing _him_.

He didn't even notice how Dean was walking them back ward, didn't notice how they had made their way around the desk, even though he couldn't see he should have known that, should have known the amount of steps they had taken, been aware of the way Dean seemed to be leading him somewhere with a purpose.

It wasn't until he was abruptly turned and nudged against the ladder, facing it, that Sam gasped in a breath. "Dean?" he shook his head, "No, no more, want you..." Sam pleaded, even as Dean nudged him upward onto the ladder.

"I can't see, I can't..." Sam complained, even as he climbed up one rung, then two, then three. It was then that he felt his wrists being tied high above his head, tied to the ladder, his ankles soon followed, bound to each side of the ladder, forcing him to spread his legs. 

A whimper broke from Sam's throat as his hips bucked, his head tilting back. "Please..."

"Not done playing yet, Sam," Dean answered finally, rubbing both hands possessively over Sam's ass cheeks. "I want us to want it so bad, there are tears involved." He meant it, he was going to wring every last pleasure he could out of this. He leaned in and kissed Sam's ass, then moved his mouth down his leg, then the other. 

Sam's ass clenched at the feel of lips against him, his thigh muscles flexing as Dean's lips moved to them. Sam gasped in a breath, head tilting back, low moans spilling from his lips.

On his way back up, he was between Sam's legs, his tongue eventually lifting Sam's sack. He started to suck him all over again, playing with him until he knew Sam was getting too excited and might not be able to keep from cumming. 

Snaking his hand around Sam's body, he gripped the base of Sam's cock, practically pinching him. "No cumming, not until I say." 

Sam groaned, thrusting his hips even as Dean held the base of his cock tight. Gritting his teeth, he tugged at the bonds holding his wrists, small whimpers sounding deep in his throat. 

He released Sam when he thought it was safe, then climbing up the ladder behind him, he tugged his hair and pulled Sam's face to the side for a long, heated kiss. It would be the last real kiss for a while, and he had to make it count. 

Sam moaned and groaned into the kiss, tried to devour Dean's mouth with his own, needing, wanting so badly.

"Fuck Sam, I could do this... just this all night," he whispered thickly, grinding his arousal against his ass.

Dean dropped down, moved away for a moment, and then returned with another strip from Sam's silky shirt. Wrapping it around Sam's face three times, he gagged him, tying a knot behind his head. "Not seeing intensifies things for you. The gag... it does it for me. Make all the sounds you want around it Sammy, I can imagine what you're saying." 

Sam groaned and shook his head, tugging harder at the bindings holding his wrists. He tried to yell 'no' into the gag, but it only sounded like muffled nothings, even to his own ears. His chest rose and fell with each breath, nostrils flared.

Stepping around to the other side of the ladder that was angled to rest against the shelving that went all the way to the high ceilings, Dean stripped, kissed Sam's cock through the ladder opening, then climbed up, his muscles bulging slightly as he held tight against gravity and moved his hips against Sam's. The ladder provided plenty of interference, but they were skin to skin, and he loved the wet trails Sam's cock was leaving over his stomach. "Want me behind you Sam, want me inside you, fucking you? You know how hard I am... feel me."

Sam nodded, struggled and thrust against Dean, grunts and groans leaving him, muffled by the gag. Sam arched as far as he could, nearly bending backward as well as the gypsy dancer, if it weren't for the bindings at his wrists holding him upright, as he tried to arch into Dean through the ladder. Sam screamed in anger against the gag when it wasn't helping, tugged at his bound wrists and shook his head.

"By all that's holy... fuck Sam, you make me burn with lust," Dean admitted freely. He ran his hand down Sam's stomach, then around the ladder to his ass, stroking and touching him as much as he could while keeping his own grip on the ladder. 

Sam's muscles rippled and twitched under Dean's touch, soft whimpers and loud moans breaking from his throat. His breaths panting out hard through his nose, body writhing, pressing into each touch of Dean's hand, fingertips, his body.

He tried to kiss him, over the material. His lips slipped over Sam's, the material preventing his tongue from delving inside. He groaned, then felt Sam pounding into his belly, moving with such force Dean knew he was headed for release. "No." His voice cracked like a whip, and Dean dropped down. "You don't cum yet."

Sam's hips stuttered to a halt as he whined, tugging at the bindings holding him.

Crossing the room, Dean brought back the rest of Sam's tattered shirt, then singlemindedly wrapped it around the rung of the ladder closest to Sam's cock, his hand occasionally brushing his innocent's arousal. When he was done, there was a mass of soft material, and without his saying so, Sam discovered it and started to rut against it.

Each brush of Dean's hand against his cock had it twitching and pulsing with need. Sam groaned as his head rolled, falling back, before he raised it again, shaking it. Mumbling a 'please' against the gag.

Moving behind Sam, Dean gripped his hips. "No rutting. Not until I come back." Sliding kisses down the center of Sam's spine, and over the cleft of his ass, Dean walked away. 

Sam's head hung, his breaths panting out, a long harsh whine leaving him.

He made some sounds, picking up his own clothes, then walked to the door. "No rutting Sam, I mean it. But I want you to think of me, on that ladder behind you. Think of me fucking you, slowly at first, then hard... think of that." He opened, then shut the door.

His bare feet made no sound as he made his way back to the chair, and sat down, eyes trained on his innocent, waiting for the inevitable.

Sam slowly lifted his head and tugged again at the bindings, turned his head toward the door, then back, letting it fall back as he screamed in frustration against the gag, tugging harder at the restraints, so hard that the ladder rocked slightly, before Sam hung his head again, breaths panting out harder from his exertion.

A low whine sounded in Sam's throat as his hips moved just slightly, his cock brushing against the soft material, his body jerking at how sensitive he was. Sam moved again, then again, and again, a low long groan leaving him. Soon he was rutting hard against the material, his ass muscles clenching and releasing with each thrust and pull back, breaths panting out, his hands clutching the wood ladder in a tight grip. He groaned and moaned, writhed and threw his head back. _So close, so close...._

Dean's hand drifted between his own legs, his fist closing around his cock as he watched Sam, blindfolded, gagged and so fucking disobedient, moving against the material, trying to find his relief. Was he thinking of Dean's cock up his ass, was he as he rubbed hard, his back arching away from the ladder? _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._ Lust was riding Dean as hard as it was riding his innocent. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done, pulling back from the edge the way he did, releasing his arousal and walking over to the ladder.

Licking his lips, he suddenly slapped his palm hard against Sam's ass. The cracking sound filled the room. 

Sam jumped in shock at the blow to his ass, a loud cry sounding against the gag as he turned his head this way and that, breaths panting out heavily.

"I said no rutting." Dean smacked him again. "I thought I was clear Sammy." One more, and he thought he was going to cum. Dean dropped down to kiss the rosey palm print he'd left on Sam's ass. "Burns? Sensitive? Feel this?" He licked him, feeling him quiver under his touches.

So close... he'd been so close. Sam's cock steadily leaking precum now, pulsed and twitched, ached so much it was nearly no longer pleasurable.

When he stood back, the sight of his hand print on Sam was almost too much. He climbed the ladder behind Sam, lodging his cock between Sam's cheeks and rubbing, teasing himself. "I want to rut... so fucking bad Sam. Want to be in you, going to be in you." 

Sam groaned, nodded and pushed back against Dean, writhed, nearly trembling. He tried to beg, a muffled and garbled 'please' and 'yes' and 'aches' sounding, but coming out unintelligible against the gag, adding to Sam's frustrations. He screamed against it, tugging hard on the bindings, arching first one way, then the other before his head fell back on Dean's shoulder and another tearless sob of frustration left him, chest rising and falling heavily.

"Oh God Sam, so perfect..." Dean slowly pushed inside Sam, very aware that his innocent was more than ready, was making silent demands as he pressed his ass back. Once he was inside, he slammed his chin down into the curve of Sam's neck, blinded by pleasure. "So fucking tight." He panted out a few breaths, then started to fuck... slowly. Once he got a rhythm going, he reached around and closed his hand over Sam's cock, moving his fist up and down his cum-slicked member. "That's it... you can rut now... go ahead."

Sam groaned as he started to move, pressing back against Dean's cock, thrusting his hips forward into his fisted hand. He tried to go slow, keep the rhythm Dean had set, but he couldn't, he was past the point of going slow, aching and needy, he thrust his hips hard and fast into Dean's fist, grunts and groans, moans and other noises, sounded in his throat, muffled against the gag as he moved. His body trembled, writhed, he pivoted his hips, grinding back against Dean trying to entice him to move faster, wanting that blinding pleasure that came with it.

Sam cried out against the gag, an angry shout when it wasn't fast enough, hard enough, his thrusts into Dean's fist nearly frantic.

"What do you want Sammy, more?" Smiling against his skin, Dean started to move harder, faster, nipping Sam's sensitive skin, sounds of pleasure breaking from him each time he thrust. His gaze moved up Sam's arms, watching his muscles tense as he fought the restraints, trying to have his way, to set his own rhythm. "You want to cum?"

Dean knew the answer, but was delaying. 

Sam groaned. Good God, yes, he wanted to cum, he wanted to ages ago. Needed to. He moaned and writhed, thrusting as hard as he could, struggling against the restraints. Sam's muscles tensed, his breath even caught in his throat as he reached for it, tried fucking Dean's fist and pressing back against his cock as hard as he could, clenching his muscles in the process, a loud shout tore from Sam's throat in frustration.

Then Sam clenched his ass around his cock, and a lusty cry broke from Dean. That was it, he was done holding back, he couldn't if he tried. He started to pound into Sam so hard the ladder kept striking against the shelving and would have fallen if it weren't attached. With each thrust he was that much deeper, that much closer, his balls slapping against Sam. "Oh God... God Sam, it's time..." he squeezed his lover's hard flesh, letting him fuck his fist as he suddenly arched back. "Now... now Sammy."

Sam moved his hips, fucking Dean's fist, hard, erratic movements, arms tugging at the restraints as Sam nearly went wild, a cry tearing from his throat as heat pooled low, balls drawing up painfully tight. Sam arched back on one last thrust before he was cumming hard, jets of hot spunk coating Dean's fist, some even making it to the edge of the book shelf. Sam screamed loud against the gag as he came, likely alerting the rest of the household. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dean bit his lip so hard he swore he could taste blood. Heat erupted from his loins, filling Sam again, and again. "Oh God..."

As his orgasm ended, Sam suddenly stopped moving, going limp in Dean's arms, head falling back on his shoulder and rolling to the side, as sweet blackness engulfed him.

Dean crooned love words to Sam, as he ungagged him with one hand. "Kiss me," he asked, seeking Sam's mouth, surprised that though he let him push his tongue inside, he wasn't responsive. Thinking he angered Sam, he held him tight. "Sam, was it too much?"

At the lack of a response, he shook Sam and realized he'd fainted or fallen asleep. Stepping down, he quickly pulled his trousers on, and used his knife to cut Sam down, catching him in his arms. Dragging a cloak that was hanging on the hook near the door over Sam, he carried him out.

His lover made an unwieldy parcel, with his height and now that he was in a dead faint, his weight. Still, Dean negotiated the narrow stairs with him in his arms, and got him to their bed. He cleaned Sam up with a wet cloth, and then pulled the covers over him, smiling down at his innocent. He'd wanted to hear Sam's thoughts about what they'd done, this new form of sex. If he hadn't had a bit to drink, and if Sam hadn't started to talk about the sexual acts in that book, he would not have intentionally brought Sam down this path yet. He wanted, needed to know, whether Sam had enjoyed it as much as he had.

He kissed his innocent, then pulled him into his arms, muttering the love words Sam usually demanded to hear, before he went to sleep.

*

Sam took a deep breath and stretched, frowning briefly at the soreness of his muscles, but then he remembered. Remembered Dean tying him up and teasing him, teasing him for, what had felt like, forever. He remembered how hard he had cum then too, how he'd been shocked at his own body and then...

His frown deepened, blackness.

Turning his head, his lashes fluttered open to see Dean laying in bed beside him, and Sam's lips slowly slid into a smile as he moved closer, slid up against Dean's side, tossing a leg over one of Dean's as he wrapped an arm around his waist and laid his head on his master's chest. "Morning," he murmured softly, turning his head slightly to drop a kiss against Dean's chest.

"Mmm, morning." He would have drifted back to sleep, except he remembered the mischief of last night. Dean's eyes opened quickly, and he searched Sam's face, trying to gauge his mood. "What was that for?" he asked, a smile started to spread across his face at the fluttery feel of Sam's mouth against his chest.

Sam shrugged a shoulder, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Maybe for the ache in my muscles, or the way my rump still feels like you were just there," he blushed, even though he wasn't looking at Dean's face. "Or the fact that I thought you had killed me last night I came so hard," he sighed, watching as he ran a single digit in circles around Dean's nipple.

"You did," Dean chuckled. "I don't think I've ever seen you like that. Even ... tied up, you were so demanding. Not everyone enjoys... that. I didn't mean to take it too far." Just the thought of how Sam had looked made him hard. The way he'd blindly been rutting against the cloth covered rung... fuck, he'd never forget that, not in a hundred years.

Sam blushed more, his smile widening as he shook his head slightly. "It - no, not too far." He frowned thoughtfully as he licked his lips, "was I -" he turned his head to look at Dean's face, "did I- was it _bad_?"

"Bad? Good God Sammy, if it was any better I think I'd have died." He looked into his innocent's eyes. "I loved every minute. So much that I don't think anything could have stopped me. I'm relieved you enjoyed it too. I'll never forget it, how you looked." Capturing Sam's lips with his own, he gave him a hard kiss. 

Wrapping his arms around Dean and pulling him closer as they kissed, Sam kissed him back. "Could have," he kissed him again," "woke me" and again,"up," and again, then chuckled, "maybe." Sam blushed, biting his lip as he looked at Dean. "I want to do that again sometime," his gaze lowered to Dean's arms, following along them, then back up again to Dean's face, "but tying you, instead."

"Yeah?" Dean ran his hand up and down Sam's side. "I can't be tied up, a knight has to be ready for anything." He didn't want to disappoint Sam, or stop him from experimenting. "But you can blindfold me, gag if you want," he started to rub the pad of his thumb over Sam's nipple. "And I can hold something, hold still until you tell me. Just like if I was tied, only worse... remember how you couldn't help rutting against the ladder? I'd have to stop myself... no matter what, I wouldn't break a promise to you."

Sam bit his lip, his gaze slowly dropping as he grimaced, "Yeah, sorry about that, I - it, I just,"he sighed, "sorry." He looked up slowly, "are you disappointed in me for not listening, for not doing what you asked me to?"

"Are you kidding me? I _wanted_ you to not be able to resist. I needed to see you like that, wanting it, needing it, trying to fight it but unable..." He kissed Sam's shoulder, then pulled back. "It almost pushed me over the edge. So... what do you think? You want me like _that?_."

A low moan broke from Sam's throat as his eyes slowly closed, he swallowed and slowly opened his eyes. "You - I, Mmm..." he blushed and glanced down at Dean's thumb teasing his nipple, then back up at Dean's face. "I think you have made me wanton."

"I hope so... you make such a pretty wanton. You fainted last night," he chuckled, and pulled Sam up over him, wrapping his legs around each of Samuel's. His hand slid up and down Sam's back, and ass, claiming him yet again. "I think we need to ask the harper to write a ballad about my feat... hmm?"

Sam's eyes widened as he looked at Dean. "About your -" he blushed a deep scarlett. "As long as _my_ name isn't involved, I would die of embarrassment!" He shook his head as he lowered it, face against Dean's neck, tongue darting out to lick slowly up to his ear. "Mayhap they can just sing of the innocent who became wanton for his knight, and how the knight could love him so well, that his innocent would faint with the pleasure," he suggested softly, warm breath ghosting over sensitive skin.

Sam drew his head back to look at Dean, "No names of course," he shrugged a shoulder. "Then others could enjoy it too, after all, I would hate to think that somewhere out there, two others are not doing the same thing at this very moment."

"Mmm. You have good ideas." Dean lifted his hips, grinding against Sam. "I'm having some right now. Kiss me."

Sam bit his lip as he dipped his head, releasing it a moment before his lips touched Dean's, mouth opening up to him, his tongue darting into Dean's mouth. Sam moaned softly, shifting his hips, wiggling so that his cock slid along Dean's lightly, teasing them both.

Tangling his tongue with Sam's, Dean moved against Sam, groaning as their bodies slid together. "I told you last night how much I love you, but you weren't listening. Am I gonna have to repeat myself?" he mock complained. He was gonna make slow, gentle love to his innocent, let him be on top, let him rut against him until they both came. "There's honey on the nightstand," he said, his voice thick with suggestion. 

Sam's eyes darted to the nightstand, a slow smile spreading over his face, before he looked back at Dean and leaned in, slanting his mouth over Dean's as he reached for the honey.

* * *

For several months, Dean had taken to allowing Sam to accompany him on most hunts. His innocent's training had progressed on two fronts, both fighting skills as well as in the art of sending supernatural creatures to hell and and other places. At first, Dean had overly worried about Sam, but as Sam showed him that he took direction, did not interfere when asked not to, and proved more than a valuable assistant, he accepted their new arrangement as a good one.

There were times that Sam had saved him, and he'd pointed out that in 'their' line of business, it was normal for both of them to be in danger. The trick of it was that they always got out alive, working together. Dean asked how he'd gotten that smart, then they'd made love in yet another peasant's home. Sam had demanded Dean pay them ten gold pieces, Dean agreed to three, but left only one. A gold piece... something a peasant would never see in his life!

Now they'd just vanquished a beast that hunted in these woods, luring small children and feeding on their breaths till they died. Dean was making sure that the appropriate symbols were drawn on flat stones to be buried with it, so nothing could ever raise it from the dead. Meanwhile his innocent had moved away to throw up the taint, having come in contact with the evil murderous creature.

Sam walked away from the others as he always did, hand on his stomach, nearly stumbling along in his rush to rid himself of the taint that came with fighting these horrible creatures. It was always the same after they fought. As soon as the work was done, Sam could be found standing off somewhere vomiting for a time, before he once again felt right, more like himself again. He had made it a few yards away from the others, their voices, now only mumbled nose in the background, though from time to time he could hear Peter's loud bark of laughter.

Sam bent, doubling over as he retched almost violently for a time, horrible tasting liquid spilling onto the forest floor along with his last meal.

He was just starting to catch his breath, to feel a bit less weighed down by the horrible taint, when he heard the twig snap before him. He only had time to move his eyes, looking upward toward the source of the sound. He caught a flash of movement and then was hit by something in the chest, something that burned like acid and knocked the wind from his lungs. He landed with a hard thud backward, flat on his back, dust, dirt and leaves kicking up around him at the force.

Sam struggled to draw in air as he fought to make his eyes open to see what it was that had hit him. Looming over him was a woman, a youthful woman, naked save for the odd scrap of a dress she wore, her hair was long and tangled, vines running among the strands and flowers circled her brow like a crown. In her hands she held what appeared to be no more than a large stick, though the way she carried it mayhaps it was a scepter.

She did not look all that horrific until she fell to her knees beside him, and hissed at him, showing rows of pointed teeth like some sort of nightmare demon.

Sam tried to move, thought he was doing so, until his eyes managed to look downward to find that he was laying still, just as he had been. Why was his body not listening to him? Even his head, it seemed, would not move, nothing save for his eyes... Sam drew in a ragged breath, lips parting. His face, he could move his face, draw breath.

Moving her hands rapidly, she began to scratch him with long hard pointed nails, that not only tore clothing but flesh from his body. Sam screamed.

The sounds of retching were normal, but the screams. Five men, Dean among the first, ran to his aid. The instant Dean saw that it was a maenad, he snapped out his order, "get me a mace and net." Then without waiting for his weapons of choice, he ran toward them, catapulting forward, his booted foot aimed at her head.

He made contact, and dropped down next to her. Bitch was knocked back but still had her talons in Samuel. Roaring with anger, Dean attacked her again, this time punching her face and shouting as he all but shattered his fist. She wasn't as gentle as she retracted her claws and attacked Dean. He used his sword to block her attacks, calling for someone to see to Samuel. 

Then his mace was brought to him. Charles held a similar weapon, and between the two of them, they beat the creature with the spikes maces and used the net to prevent her from getting away. Only when she'd been beaten to a bloody pulp, did Dean drop the net and mace and rush to Sam's side.

"Did she get you? Did she get him?" he demanded wildly, afraid for his innocent's life.

Peter pulled to his feet from kneeling at Sam's side, his attention on Dean. "She," he raised a hand to scratch his brow and run the hand down his face. "She got him, yes." Seeing the look on Dean's face, Peter held up a hand, "he lives, Dean. He lives, but," he glanced at Sam on the ground before looking back at Dean, "he can't move." Peter didn't mention the bloody slices across Sam's flesh, being bloody was something they were use to, it was the innocent's lack of ability to move that had Peter's attention.

"D-Dean?" Sam called out weakly from where he lay, face contorted in pain, unable to move, to help himself, to see why it was his chest burned so badly that he was sure fire could not burn as strongly.

"I'm here Sammy, right here. Gonna be alright," Dean said, bending down. "Move away," he shouted at the gathering crowd, unable to see once their bodies blocked the sun. "Right here." He stroked Sam's face with his palm. "Where does it hurt most? Where does it burn?"

Even as he asked, Dean searched Sam's body for signs of poisonous quills. "Gloves," he requested, pulling them on and then running his hands over Sam's arms, then starting to unclothe him. It was a cold morning and he had many layers on.

Sam groaned in pain, swallowed as he moved his eyes toward Dean, to look up at him. "I can't - can't move," he croaked, a look of pain marring his features. "M-my chest, it burns," he answered, another grunt of pain following.

Dean cursed. He'd hoped the quills were on one of Sam's extremities, the poison would work much faster if it was in the trunk of his body. He ripped the clothes off, apologizing for the pain he caused but needing to find the damned things. There they were, three thin feather tipped quills. Dean sucked in an audible breath seeing how close one of them had gotten to Sam's heart.

He started to reach for the first quill.

"My Lord," Peter questioned him. "You cannot..." As Dean ignored him, Peter ordered one of the younger knights to bring Dean's gauntlets.


	12. Chapter 12

Closing a leather encased fist around the quill, Dean started to pull at it. His glove started to smoke, a hole burning through it even as he partially extracted the quill closest to Sam's heart. Before it was out, he was gritting his teeth and groaning out his pain, but stubbornly holding onto the feathered instrument.

Sam fought to be strong, to hold back the cry of pain that was lodged in his throat, his panic and fear at his inability to move making him want to scream and cry like a five year old nearly impossible to hold back, but he was managing, just barely. Gritting his teeth, as he lay there, Sam blinked several times, trying to rid himself of the tears stinging his eyes, one seeping out to roll down the corner of his eye and into the hair at his temple.

When it was out, Dean dropped it down on the ground, ripping his glove off. His hand was badly scored. He took the glove of his left hand, turned it over and stuffed his hand in it, then started to pull at the second quill. The smell of burning flesh, his and his innocent's, filled the air.

Before Dean was done, the gauntlet was finally brought. He put it over the leather glove, and then went back to work, allowing Peter to talk to Sam and keep his mind off the pain as much as he could. The second quill came out, but the third was a struggle. It was lodged deeper and had attached itself to something.

Sam tried to concentrate on Peter's voice, on his words, tried not to scream at them all and demand to know why it was he could not move. Was he like this forever now? Had this thing, this woman paralyzed him? Was this his fate? Why did his chest burn so badly? And Dean, those things he was pulling out, good God what were they?

"Goddamit..." using both hands, Dean pulled up hard, the veins at his temples swelling with his effort, and then he fell back, with the quill in his hand. "Get holy water on the quills to neutralize them," Dean said, tossing the gauntlet at one of the men. 

No longer could Sam hear Peter's softly spoken words, his attempts to get him to smile, all there was was the pain that was flaring even brighter once Dean pulled out the thing in his chest. Sam squeezed his eyes closed, trying to keep the scream lodged in his throat back, only to have it escape despite his best efforts. 

Peter glanced up from Sam's still form to look over at Dean, as he reached back for the small vial of holy water in the pouch at his side. Popping the cap, he poured the water over Sam's wounds, watching as they sizzled and smoked. With a sigh, Peter looked back at Dean once the vial was emptied and nodded. "He did well, nasty little bitch that she was," he muttered, glancing toward the now beaten and bloodied maenad's body.

"Sam... love, we're going to get you to to a bed, alright? I know it hurts, it... I'll explain it to you when we have shelter. Do you... can you move any part of your body?" It took everything Dean had to keep it together, to sound calm, logical, collected... when all he wanted to do was rail and destroy the body of the one who'd done this to his innocent.

Sam's eyes, glassy and tear-filled, wide and afraid moved to Dean. "No, I - I can't. Just," his face contorted in pain, "just my face, I - why can't I move!?" his gaze darted between Dean and Peter fearfully.

"The quills... darts, they are poisonous." Fuck, it had been Sam's arm or leg, he could have used a tourniquet to prevent the poison from spreading. "You'll be fine once it leaves your system." He wasn't able to cover the deep sob that broke out of him. Sam could die, if his body didn't fight this, he could very well die, and there wasn't a damned thing Dean could do about it.

Lifting him up, he rushed to the horses. There was no cart to pull him with. Instead, he passed Sam to Peter, mounted, then took his innocent. Closing his arms around him, he started to ride, all of the horses taking off at a fast gallop.

It was below the one hour mark, when Dean had Sam inside a bed in a nearby tavern, and food and drink were being brought up. The fires were stoked, and blankets were piled high over Samuel. The windows were closed, and a sheen of sweat dampened Dean's forehead, as well as his innocent's. He sat next to him now, once everything that could possibly be done for him had been. 

His innocent looked feverish and uncomfortable. "I know it's hot, love. We have to sweat it out of you. You'll have to drink as well... we have to flush it out of your system any way we can." Leaning down, he kissed Sam's warm lips, his heart clenching at the though of losing him. 

Sam closed his eyes and swallowed, not wanting to voice his worry again about not being able to move. It was disconcerting not being able to do anything but lay like a lump, your body not listening to a thing you told it. Sam slowly opened his eyes to look at Dean, "I'm s-sorry, should have," his face contorted in pain briefly, "should have heard her sooner, moved faster, I-" Sam closed his eyes and swallowed again, beads of sweat slowly sliding down his forehead. "Hot," he made a face, "I can't-" Sam grit his teeth in frustration at his body that no longer acted as his own.

"I know... I know it's hot Sammy, we're gonna make it through, okay?" He wiped the sweat from Sam's forehead. "Not your fault. None of us could have see that coming." They'd dealt with the evil they'd been called to deal with and never realized a second danger was skulking about.

The door opened, and the servant brought in a pitcher of water and a bowl of soup. Dean told her to set it next to the bed, and once she left, he poured a cup of water. Putting an arm under Sam, he lifted him slightly and held the cup to his lips. When his innocent would have stopped drinking, he insisted. "All of it." 

Sam's eyes flickered up to Dean's, before he closed them and did as he was told, though there was still a stubborn tilt to his chin, even paralyzed he managed to look defiant. 

Water trickled past Sam's lips and down his neck after a while."No - no more, I can't-" Sam gagged, eyes flying open wide and meeting Dean's. Surely he was not going to retch _now_! He gagged again, body seizing as Sam gasped in air. "Dean," he grit out, "Dean!" Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do, his body wanting to expel the taint from contact with the maenad.

Giving him a grim look, Dean set the cup down. "Do you need a bucket?"

Sam's face contorted, and he nearly managed a blush, or was it the heat of the room? "I - Yes, yes, I do! Oh God!"

Dean lifted it off the floor and helped Sam up again, letting him throw up taint and all the water he'd just had. "That's good Sam... this is good, we'll get it all out of you," he crooned, giving him more water, and shaking his head when Sam would have stopped drinking. "Sorry... we need to get it in you, we have to wash the poison out. Drink."

He fed Sam the broth, and kept forcing him to drink, ignoring the fierce protests. He helped Sam over the piss pot, praising him as he got more of the poison out, arguing when necessary, even insisting he drink by holding his nose when he became difficult. His innocent had no idea how close to the doorstep of death he was right now, none. But Dean did, and by God, he would not let his innocent cross that threshold.

It was many hours later when Sam was finally somewhat comfortable in the bed, as much as he could be without the ability to move the way he wished, and with being forced to be this hot. His eyes began to droop as he lay there under more blankets than he felt were necessary. "You could," a small smile tugged at Sam's lips, even with his eyes closed, his voice growing sleepy, " _love_ the poison out of me," he suggested softly.

Dean leaned down, lips pressing lightly over Sam's. "If I could suck it out of you, you'd be making sounds all night." He managed the jest for Sam's sake, holding him tight as if that would keep his spirit... his soul in his body.

Sam smiled slightly wider, before his brow creased in pain, "Mmm," a small groan of pain sounded deep in his throat. "Mayhap you should try, would keep my mind off the pain that seems intent on surprising me again and again," Sam muttered softly. "Turn." Sam gave a frustrated huff when he was unable to do it on his own, "turn my head toward you, against your neck?" Sam asked him, "tired."

"Shshsh, I got you." Dean helped him find the position Sam liked, then he started to stroke his face and hair and neck, soothing him as best as he could, helping him to fall asleep. Long after Sam fell asleep, Dean remained awake, staring into the fire, battling his own fears. 

* * *

Morning came and Dean had hardly slept. He'd awakened Sam, forcing him to drink, and helped him to piss. The servants had come into the room all night long, keeping the fire strong, and making sure there was enough water.

Peter walked in. "And how is your little innocent this morning?"

"Not so innocent," Dean smiled, knowing Sammy had woken with a stiff cock. "Now he only has to listen and drink when I say."

Sam frowned against Dean's neck, "S' not funny," he softly slurred, voice rough from sleep. He tried to turn his head further against Dean's neck to hide his blush, and after a few tries and frustrated grunts, his head actually rolled. "Dean!" he nearly shouted against his master's neck, thought the word came out so garbled it was nearly unrecognizable.

Heart hammering in his chest at his triumph, even as small as it was, Sam was grinning against the flesh of Dean's neck, breaths panting out from the effort that it had taken, but not caring.

"What is it?" It took Dean a moment to realize Sam had moved himself. He squeezed him tight, a low laugh rumbling in his chest.

"By all that's holy man, you're going to squeeze him to death," Peter interjected, grinning like the pair of them. "Samuel, now you know what it felt like for his Lordship when he defeated the enormous, winged, bug eyed fruit fly in the northwest. When it sat on Dean, your 'strong' knight could hardly move. His hand was trapped under the monster of a fly, and he yelled like a woman."

Sam laughed, at Peter's words, his head slowly, very slowly, rolling to look over at Peter. "Like a woman, you say?" he snickered, "mayhap it was due to the thing crushing his _sword_."

"If you were well, I would remind you that it is a lance," Dean answered, but no one was listening.

"You must be right, because he was limping after that hunt and the tavern wenches were displeased."

This time Dean glowered at Peter. 

Sam's smile slowly fell away as he turned his head back into the crook of Dean's neck. "When can we go home? I'm okay now, just want to go home." Sam spoke softly against Dean's neck, tried to move his arm to circle around Dean but only managed to make it twitch, a frustrated huff falling from Sam's lips.

"Another day or two, we have to make sure you'll be okay. Have to keep drinking," Dean insisted despite the displeased look from his innocent. "Once you can sit, and stand, we'll leave then." 

"Make sure I'll be okay?" Sam asked him frowning as he rolled his head back from Dean's neck, hazel eyes searching Dean's face. "How - how bad am I?" He asked, biting his lip.

"You're going to be fine. I swear it," Dean answered, skirting the question. "Peter will take care of you for an hour. I'll be back." Kissing him lightly, he got up. "You... don't tire him. Make sure he drinks. And eats something," he said, walking toward the door. "And no regaling him with tales that are 'too exciting'... you know what I'm talking about."

Sam looked from Dean to Peter and back, a small frown ceasing his brow. He wanted to ask where Dean was going, when he would be back and some part of him, the part that was still child-like and innocently naive wanted to call out for him not to leave him, but Sam pressed his lips together, forced himself not to say any of it, only nodding as much as he was able. "Okay." 

Looking back at Peter, Sam tried to smile. "So what other insects has my lord vanquished and beaten back with his mighty sword and the sweat of his brow?" Sam asked, his words managing to make his lips quirk upward more.

As soon as the door closed behind Dean, Peter began. "Why don't I tell you a bit about what he has 'vanquished' with his 'lance.'" Grinning, he launched into outrageous tales of how the high and mighty Lord Winchester went about courting an innocent named Sam. 

*

After washing up and changing his clothes, Dean knelt at the alter of a small chapel. Every available candle was lit for his innocent, and the priest was asked to pray for him continuously until he was safe from death.

* * *

A week and half had passed, they were back at the castle and with each day some of Sam's mobility had returned. Now Sam was as good as ever, completely healed and getting fed up with being treated as though he might break in the next strong wind.

Sam had tried to engage Dean more than once in bedsport only to be told that he was not ready for sex, as if Dean knew his body better than he did. He was _fine_ , he could do anything he wanted. He'd even gone so far as to stand during supper in an angry huff when his whispered flirtations were received with a pat on the leg under the table as if Dean were calming an over eager pet, and had bent over backward to show Dean just how _able_ he was to do any damn thing he wished.

He had gotten a 'by all that's holy' from Peter, but Dean had merely yanked him back down into his seat, giving him a look like he had just set the castle ablaze.

It was time for bed now, and Sam was sitting on the edge, leaning forward, forearms on his thighs, as he watched Dean undress. "Might just as well sleep in my own room," Sam muttered under his breath, looking away with a huff. Looking back to find his master looking at him, Sam cleared his throat as he sat up, eyes wide. "What? I said nothing!" he insisted.

As if his hearing had suddenly gone. Dean shook his head. "I only want what is best for you," he reminded Sam for the thousandth time. He tried not to notice how the firelight played on Samuel's skin, making him appear as if he was washed in gold, the shadows emphasizing the lines of his innocent's muscles. "You know I can't help wanting you every moment and that this waiting, it kills me." His voice was gruff because he was fighting his own battles.

"Then stop," Sam told him bluntly, jaw tilted at a stubborn angle as he looked at him, "You want what is best for me," he gave a slow nod, "then give me _you_ ," Sam told him, eyes darkening with lust as his gaze roamed over his knight, "you are what is 'best for me'." His look challenging Dean, as he slowly parted his lips and ran his tongue over the full bottom one. "Kiss me, touch me, _love_ me." Sam told him, his voice an octave deeper than it had been a moment ago.

"Sam," Dean ground out as his cock twitched. "I think you're right, you should sleep in your own room tonight." He ran a hand over his face, wondering how much longer he could resist. All reference guides he'd found said a victim of such poisoning should rest for two weeks to thirty days after they were able to stand.

Sam clenched his jaw, nostrils flared in anger, "I am FINE!" he nearly yelled, then pulled to his feet, nodding angrily. "Fine, fine, you don't want me, I'll go sleep in my room," his eyes narrowed on Dean, "I'll go rut into my hand as I think of you instead and you can lay in here alone and be ' _safe_ '!"

Anger flared in Dean's eyes at his innocent's tone, but he managed to keep his temper under control, for the same reason he was keeping his lust under control. For his innocent's safety. "As you wish," he muttered, tossing his clothes onto a table and waiting for Sam to abandon their bed.

Sam was angry, he couldn't help it. As far as he was concerned there was no reason for his being treated like this. Had he been any one of the other knights he was sure that he would not be handled as if he could break, as if he were still laying at deaths door, which, when he thought about it, still seemed rather severe to say. Sure, he had felt horrible and it had been terrifying not to be able to move, the pain... but _death_? He wasn't so sure about his being that close to it. 

Sam sighed and hung his head, trying to not be angry, "Just," he lifted his head slightly, nodding toward the bed, "just let me tuck you in, tell you goodnight?" he asked, slowly looking over at Dean.

"Of course." With only his brais covering him, Dean walked to the bed, pulled the sheets open and sat down. Putting his arm out, he stroked Sam's side. "It's only one more week. Then we'll have each other however many times we want. I miss you under me, you know that."

Sam sighed and leaned in to the touch, his forehead against Dean's as he closed his eyes. After a moment, Sam drew back and dipped his head, pressing an open mouthed kiss against Dean's lips, letting his tongue dart out to run along Dean's bottom lip and moaning softly at the taste of his knight. "Miss you," Sam said softly, before flicking his tongue into the seam of Dean's lips, pressing, seeking the warm interior of Dean's mouth.

His arms closed around Sam like iron bands, his innocent's taste completely irresistible to him. Groaning at the taste of honey from Sam's lips, he just knew Sam had been at the honey cakes with the intent of teasing him like this. He broke the kiss, licking Sam's lips, a sound breaking from him when Sam boldly stepped between his legs. "Are you sure you're no incubus?"

Sam chuckled softly. "If I were, I'm doing a poor job, I've been better a while now," he replied softly, dipping his head down further to lick a trail up Dean's neck to his ear. "Lay back for me," he asked softly, hands running up Dean's sides to his chest, thumbs slowly circling his nipples, then brushing over the hardened nubs before his hands ran back down to the waistband of Dean's brais and stopped, "please?"

"Sam," he tried to move away but his inocent was persistent, rubbing his mouth against Dean's sensitive areas, touching him just so. "Sammy." Swallowing, Dean laid back, eyes locked with Sam's as he pulled his legs up onto the bed. "You're not going to exert yourself," he warned, trying to keep an iron edge to his voice, even as his innocent was eroding his will. "Kiss me, then... go." His entire body protested that idea.

Sam nodded, "Yeah," he breathed the word as he dipped his head, his lips against Dean's. "Okay," he answered, lips brushing against Dean's before Sam pressed in, flicking his tongue into Dean's mouth and moaning softly as their tongues tangled. 

Slowly, Sam drew back, licking his lips as he gazed into Dean's eyes. "Mmm, well, I guess this is good night then," he told him softly, slowly pulling back from Dean, moving away from the bed as if he were going to the door, only to stop, reaching down to Dean's belt which was laying on a table and pulling out the small blade that had been fitted in the sheath attached to the belt.

Turning on his heel, Sam walked back to the bed and climbed on, straddling Dean's hips. Placing the knife on the bed, Sam reached for Dean's wrists. "Hold here." He moved Dean's hand to one part of the head board, "and here," he said as he moved the other to the opposite side, "Remember, you promised me, don't move. Not a muscle," he said, giving him a pointed look.

"What?" for an instant, Dean thought Sam had gone insane. But that look in his eyes, and the talk of 'promise' reminded him of that night when he'd tied Sam up in the library. Their talk afterwards, and his promise. He'd said anytime his innocent wanted him to fulfill the promise, he would. Dammit.

Grabbing up the knife, Sam moved back, straddling Dean's legs now as he reached down, untying Dean's brais and pulling the waist band down slightly before using the knife to tear a long piece of the soft material away, a smirk pulling at Sam's lips as he worked. 

"Samuel, we'll do this, another time, I promise you," Dean said, pulling his hand from the headboard and grasping Sam's wrist. "Another time," he rasped, even as his cock strained against his brais, making him burn for something that could not happen right now.

Sam looked up at him, nodding slow. "So you _are_ breaking your promise to me?"

"That is _not_ fair. I would never break a promise to you, but I would also never put your life at risk. I almost fucking lost you." He took a few breaths. "You may have been blissfully ignorant of that fact, but I was _not._ Goddammit, understand I cannot live without you. Humor me, if you must, but give your body time to heal."

Sam didn't answer, only went back to doing what he had been, cutting away the length of material, then raised up on his knees and walked on them to straddle Dean's waist, bringing the cloth to Dean's mouth and shoving it in, wrapping the ends around his head and quickly moving to tie the ends behind his head. Grabbing Dean's wrists, Sam looked down into his eyes, "You can either hang on to the bed and keep your promise, or I can bind you to it," Sam told him, eyes narrowing defiantly, "choose now." 

He could easily stop this. Roll his innocent over, pull the gag off, force him to rest. But the way Samuel was looking at him liquefied Dean's insides. Sam was a grown man, well on his way to knighthood. He was stubborn, aye, too stubborn. And he knew what he wanted. 

His jaw throbbing, Dean slammed his hand against the headboard, not hiding his displeasure. He chewed on the cloth in his mouth, wanting to spit it out, but doing as Sam wanted him to. 

Sam's gaze flickered up to Dean's hand holding onto the headboard, then looked back at Dean's face, the corners of his lips quirking slightly upward. "Thank you," Sam told him, leaning down to brush his lips across Dean's over the material in his mouth, letting his tongue trail over Dean's bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, then slowly releasing it.

Pulling back Sam's gaze searched Dean's eyes. "I'm fine," he cupped Dean's face with a hand, running his thumb over his knights high cheek bone. "Stop worrying about me." He leaned in, dropping a soft kiss on the tip of Dean's nose before pulling away and moving back again to finish cutting away the material of his brais.

His innocent was so many contradictions. Like a child, he kissed his nose. And like a man experienced in sexual matters, he bound his mouth, and cut his clothes, his face losing the innocent smile and taking on a much more intense expression. Dean didn't know which he liked better. Right now, the latter did worry him just a little as he wondered how much control would be demanded of him this night.

Once he had Dean completely naked, having pulled the tattered remains out from under him and tossing it onto the floor along with the blade, Sam move back more and dipped his head, slowly running the tip of his tongue up the inside of first one of Dean's thigh's then as he reached his groin, he moved to the other and did the same.

It didn't take much to get Dean's pulse racing where his innocent was concerned. He'd once asked Sam to stop tapping his finger on the table because watching him do so, he was unable to hear above the din of his rushing blood and beating heart. He had not been lying. And right now, as Sam's tongue explored territory which had laid to waste during his innocent's illness, Dean's heart started to beat out of control.

Mouth against his hip, Sam sucked hard on Dean's flesh, tongue making circle movments against his flesh as he sucked, then bit down before releasing and running the flat of his tongue over the bite to soothe him. He pulled his head back after and moved to do the same at Dean's opposite hip, teasing him all around his groin, but never touching him there, never letting any part of him touch there, always just out of reach.

Dean just bit back a sound of frustration as Sam's tongue slid just past his aching cock. He'd fucking taught him too well. Taking a few deep breaths, he tried not to react, forcing his will over his body, but knowing full well it was a lost cause.

Pulling up to sit back on his heels, Sam reached for his bedclothes Dean had taken to making him wear since he had gotten injured, pulling it up and over his head, tossing the thin material away. Sam smirked up at Dean, "I'm doin' okay, how 'bout you?" he teased, barely holding back his wicked chuckle.

His heated gaze raked down Samuel's naked body, his gut clenching under Sam's ass. Raising his gaze back up, he gave him a defiant look. How did Sam think he was doing? 'Get on with it,' he wanted to say, but the gag made the sounds coming from him unintelligible.

Sam raised his brows and shook his head before looking down at Dean's hard cock. "That good, huh?" he asked, "Well," he said as he moved so he could lean in lower, "guess I need to try harder," Sam mumbled, pushing Dean's legs further apart, as he flicked his tongue out, running it over Dean's balls, then sucking one into his mouth, and slowly releasing before doing the same with the other.

Dean's face swung to one side, his fingers flexing against the headboard. He wanted to move... wanted it so bad. Wanted to hold Sam's head in place, to urge him to keep sucking, to take his cock in his mouth, to get there faster. He'd been too long without this to be able to exercise much patience.

Lifting his head just slightly, Sam ran his tongue around the base of Dean's cock, licking slowly upward and around the crown before taking the tip into his mouth and sucking hard, cheeks hollowing out, then releasing, his hands at Dean's hips holding him still, down against the bed.

"Nguh.." Dean arched his neck off the bed, his cock throbbing at the short but hard stimulation. Sam's hands were surprisingly hard, holding him down. Because his innocent had a gentle spirit, he often forgot how strong he was, but there was no arguing the point, he would wear bruises on the morrow if he tried to fight to raise his hips.

Sam glanced up at Dean's face, smiling before he looked back down, leaned in and ran his tongue up the side of Dean's cock, letting his tongue dip into the slit before sucking hard on just the tip yet again and releasing. Moving one of his hands from Dean's hip, Sam reached down to cup Dean's balls, squeezing gently as he dipped his head and took his cock deep into his mouth, then pulling back and off, letting him fall from his lips, wet and spit slick.

Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, Sam smiled wickedly, before looking up and relasing Dean's balls, crawling up Dean's body to dip his head and run his tongue over a nipple, and suck it into his mouth, biting and pulling back before releasing and running the flat of his tongue slowly across and upward, his mouth at Dean's jaw, nipping softly before slanting it over Dean's gagged mouth, kissing him and running his tongue over his lips that were left uncovered by the narrow strip of material.

 _No... no don't stop_ Dean moved his head from side to side, glittering eyes locked with his innocent's, silently _telling_ him what to do. And yet Sam ignored his orders, and Dean knew Sam understood. He lifted his hips, to make sure he knew where he was aching the most, where he desperately needed more of Sam's touches. Goddammit...

Then Sam was kissing him, and even that was frustrating because Dean's tongue was imprisoned behind the damned cloth. He wanted to push it inside Sam's mouth, wanted to tongue fuck him, knowing that would drive Sam crazy... crazy enough to have him fucking against his cock, giving him what he wanted. But like this... he could do none of that. "Mmmph...mph..." The sounds he made grew louder with his frustration.

Sam pulled his head back, smirking before he leaned in, breath ghosting over Dean's ear. "Shshsh, you don't want to get me too worked up remember," he told him before moving quickly to bite his knight's neck, then run his tongue over the abused skin slowly. Pulling back, Sam refrained from looking at Dean's face, only moving down his body, dipping his head here and there to lick, bite or suck certain areas of flesh, in some places doing all three, until he was finally kneeling between Dean's legs once more.

With each touch of Sam's tongue and teeth, and dear God his mouth, Dean thought he was being driven crazy. He lifted up, trying to push more of his flesh into Sam's mouth, to touch more of Sam, and then his lover was hovering over his cock and Dean's breath caught in his throat. He pleaded with his eyes.

His gaze intent on Dean's face, Sam reached out, wrapping his hand around his knight's hard cock, thumb ghosting over the tip. "Don't move. Not at all." Sam told him. "If it were up to me you would be bound and unable to move even your hips," he gave Dean a pointed look, a wicked smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, "so _don't_ move them," he shook his head, "no matter what."

Tearing his gaze from Dean's, Sam dipped his head, taking his cock deep into his mouth and humming around his length, working his mouth up and down, wetting him with his saliva, getting him well lubed with his spit before starting to pump his hand in time with the movement of his mouth, as he sucked hard, flicking his tongue along the underside.

As fire and ice inched through Dean's veins, the knight lifted his hips once... just once, before nailing them back down onto the bed. "Oh God... you're killing me," he mumbled through the gag, his knuckles white as he struggled to keep his hands off Sam, to stop himself from rolling him over onto his back and fucking him, like he needed to right now. He was so hard, his flesh wet and aching in Sam's hand, tortured by his mouth. Sounds started breaking from him when he vented his needs through them rather than forbidden movements.

Sam worked Dean's cock for long moments, letting his saliva run down the sides of his shaft, vulgar wet sounds filling the room as he worked him. Moving one hand to his own mouth, Sam wet a finger and reached down, pressing it against Dean's tight hole.

Pulling his head back and licking his lips, Sam shook his head as he looked at Dean's face. "Wanna see what that book was talking about," he glanced toward Dean's hands, "don't let go," he told him as he continued to pump his cock, finger pressing slowly inside his hole. Lowering his head, Sam took Dean's cock back into his mouth as his finger pushed all the way into Dean's body.

 _No. No Goddamnit, this wasn't anything he'd agreed to._ He was about to break his promise, when he saw the look in Sam's eyes. Curiosity. The need to know, to learn. It was the core of Sam... it was what he loved about his innocent. Letting out a deep breath, Dean tried to relax. He put his feet flat on the bed, raising himself slightly, then bit down on the gag as he was penetrated in a manner he never would have allowed when he'd first taken his innocent.

Sam moaned as he pushed his finger inside Dean, the movements of his mouth and hand on his cock, stuttering to an almost halt as Sam frowned in concentration, remembering what the book said, feeling around for what it talked about, trying to see what it was that made him feel so good when he and Dean coupled, to see if he could make Dean feel like that.

Remembering he was supposed to be doing something else too, Sam started to stroke Dean's cock again, though he pulled his head back and sat up, biting his lip in concentration, then his fingertip passed over a small nub deep inside his knight. Sam's eyes widened as he looked up at Dean's face.

The clumsy exploration was not doing much for Dean who just wanted Sam to take his cock in his mouth, or to rut against him until they both came. That is until an unfamiliar shock ran through is body. "Angh..." His entire body stiffened, as he stared wide eyed back at Sam. And then Sam was stroking him, deep inside him, and sending little jolts of pleasure through his body. 

Keeping Sam's instructions that this hips had to stay down in mind, Dean's head thrashed back and forth, his toes curling into the bedclothes, his breaths coming out in harsh pants. Did his innocent know what he was doing to him? "Oh God... Sammy," he mumbled against the gag.

A triumphant grin spread across Sam's face before he quickly lowered his head, taking Dean's cock back into his mouth and pumping him hard as he sucked and licked him, his finger inside, brushing back and forth over that tiny nub that he had found. Sam worked him with glee, hard and unyielding, excited in more ways than one. Yes, working Dean had his own cock rock hard but the fluttering excitement in his chest was because he was getting this right. 

Dean groaned out his pleasure, again and again, pushing himself up, then remembering his promise and lowering back to the mattress. Holy fucking hell... he was being pushed to the edge, to the very edge, and then being pulled back. He wanted to thrash, to physically subdue Sam, to roll over him, make him give him what he wanted right now. He was seeing white flashes, hearing the roar of his blood, fighting... fighting his nature to keep his promises to his innocent.

Sam pulled his head back, Dean's cock falling from his lips with a loud -POP-, before Sam brushed his finger over that small bundle of nerves once more, then pulled his finger out and released Dean's cock, crawing up his body, Sam untied the gag, crushing his lips to Dean's in a hard demanding kiss and moaning long into his knight's mouth, tongue flickering in to tangle with Dean's before sucking Dean's tongue into his mouth and sucking hard.

"Oh God... oh God Sammy," Dean groaned, letting him suck his tongue into his mouth. He snapped his knees together, trapping Sam's body against him, lifting his hips to get a little pressure against his aching cock. They kissed and kissed, until he was breathless, and begging. "Need you... been so long, need you so bad," he was lifting off the bed, mindlessly rubbing against his innocent, though his hands were still firmly pressed against the headboard.

"Rut against me, please," his mouth slipped to Sam's throat, "need you... "

Sam's eyes slid closed as his lips parted, head falling back just slightly, giving Dean better access to his neck, his own cock achingly hard, pressing against Dean's. It took a minute, Sam blowing out a breath and swallowing hard before he could force himself to pull away, to pull his head back and reach up with one hand, placing it against Dean's upper chest and shoving him back hard.

"You raised your hips," Sam told him, slowly shaking his head, "you were told not to," Sam reminded him, before pulling away and reaching off the side of the bed for the shreded brais. Sitting up on Dean's hips, Sam ripped off two long strips. Laying them together, Sam held them up toward the light to be sure one could not see through them before he leaned forward, bringing the material to Dean's eyes and wrapping it around his head. "Maybe if you have to just feel, you'll have less to think about and can remember your promises," Sam suggested as he tied the blindfold in place, biting his lip as he worked.

"Sam!" Letting out a breath of frustration, he allowed his innocent to get away with yet another thing. "Straddle my face. I'll suck you, you can suck me," he suggested thickly. "Or let me rut against you, let me make love to you." His mouth burned, his body burned with desire, his cock was leaving a steady leak and his need was riding him like a sonovabitch. 

"No." Sam answered as he finished tying the blindfold, then pulled completely off Dean so that he was only on the bed beside him, wanting Dean to have no idea what he would do next.

Crawling down the bed, Sam stilled and waited, let Dean wonder what was going on, where he had gone.

"Sam!" he snapped again, then turned his head away, a pulse beating in his jaw. Next time he taught his innocent anything, he should remember that the tables could be turned.

Finally, after a lengthy pause, Sam leaned his head down, taking Dean's cock unceremoniously deep into his mouth until the blunt tip hit the back of his throat. He closed his mouth tight around his length then, humming and moving his mouth slowly up and down. Reaching out he cupped Dean's balls, alternating between squeezing and rolling them, then just as unceremoniously, pulled away completely, leaving Dean to simply lay there and wait for the next touch.

"Oh God yes, yes, yes... Sam. Oh," he was gonna fucking cry when Sam left him again. "Sonovabitch... you're killing me Sam." His fingers flexed against the headboard. He half twisted toward Sam, trying to fuck into him, but hitting air. "I'm gonna cum Sam, whether you're there for me or not, I'm gonna cum."

With a determined nod, he started to imagine Sam on top of him, rutting against him, sliding over him like they enjoyed doing in the bath. He loved it, loved when Sam fucked up against him, made those soft sounds... his heart slammed against his chest to the memories, his gut clenched, his need for release ratcheted up, the pressure building to levels he knew would soon result in his release.

Sam frowned darkly as he reached out, gripping the base of Dean's cock hard, just the way Dean had Sam's the day on the ladder. He huffed, "I'd like to see you try. No way, that's not fair. I had to wait, _you_ have to wait." 

He climbed over Dean's leg so he was between his legs and dipped his head, licking up Dean's cock slowly, even as he kept his hand holding the base in a tight, pinching grip. "It's horrible isn't it?" Sam asked him, "how bad you ache," he licked him again, blew his breath over the sensitive flesh, "how you think you'll go crazy if I don't help you." Sam nodded, "Makes you want to scream doesn't it?" he asked, just before taking Dean's cock deep into his mouth then pulling back. "Believe me, I know."

"Uhngh..." unintelligible sounds broke for Dean as he lifted his head to look at Sam but could see nothing. "Yeah... yeah Sammy, I'm about to scream. Enough playing, it's time... time to give me what I need." He lifted his hips, cursing. "Dammit."

Sam released Dean completely and raised up on his knees, leaning forward, he used a hand against the bed to hold himself up as he leaned over Dean, making sure not to touch him anywhere and dipped his head, his mouth, lips, inches away from Dean's as he spoke, "Shshsh, when I'm through playing. Just like _you_ got to play, _I_ get to play." He brushed his lips across Dean, then pulled his head back quickly before Dean could capture his lips in a real kiss. Sam made tsking sounds as he shook his head, "Careful, might smack _your_ ass too." 

"I think you better call a healer, I don't know which of us it will be for," Dean ground out. He could hear Sam's breaths, he lifted his head towards the sound, trying to find him... knowing he was there. He felt the heat emanating from Sam's body, a torture in and of itself. "For the love of God Sam, give me what I need."

Sam shook his head. "So demanding for being the one at _my_ mercy," he scolded and in the next instant he had his lips crushed against Dean's his tongue darting in and out of Dean's mouth hard, teeth knocking together as Sam tangled his tongue with Dean's, low moans escaping to be swallowed up in the kiss.

Tearing his lips away abruptly, Sam pulled his body back. Reaching for Dean's cock he started to stroke him slowly once more as he put a finger into his mouth, wetting it as much as he could with his spit, then reached down to again press a finger into Dean, this time his middle finger, and easily found the small bundle of nerves it had taken him so long to find the first time. Brushing his finger over the nub time and again, Sam pumped Dean's cock, slow, harder, faster, then slow again, never quite enough to let him reach his climax.

Sam's name and a hundred curses and pleas fell from Dean's lips as he writhed and moaned and tried to find the release he so desperately craved. His entire body was on fire, so sensitive every touch of Sam's body was amplified. 

Sam pulled his hands away, leaning his head down to simply blow softly along the length of Dean's cock, watching as it jumped and twitched. "I could be like you and just leave you here like this. Let you scream and try to rut so you can relieve the terrible ache between your legs," Sam suggested softly.

Is that what he intended. Dean's heart stuttered at the thought of being left like this. He made a sound, a low plea, "don't... Sammy don't leave me like this, please."

He held still a few moments to make Dean wonder, then leaned forward, slowly lowering his body onto Dean's, "Don't move." Sam reminded him, then ran his hands up and down Dean's sides slowly as he gyrated his hips against Dean's groin.

"You're trying to kill me." Dean was pretty sure that was his innocent's intentions.

Reaching up, Sam untied the blindfold from around Dean's eyes and kissed his lips then smiled at him softly. "Love me, my lord," he said in a hushed voice. 

"Samuel." The word was spoken with love and anguish, as Dean brought his arms of the headboard and around his innocent, running them up and down his body, over his back, his firm ass, his thighs, molding him over his own body rising to meet Sam's. "I do... beyond all, Sam, I do."

With an almost animalistic growl, Dean proceeded to kiss the daylights out of his innocent, fucking up against him, slidng his legs over and around Sam's so he could get friction with each upward thrust of his hips. His palm moved up and down over Sam's ass, memorizing, moving his fingers into the cleft of his ass, the tip of his middle finger rubbing over his hot tight hole each time they moved against each other.

Sam's lips parted, breaths panting out, head tilted back slightly, his eyes closed, as he moved against Dean, hands gripping his shoulder's from underneath. Small moans and groans tore from Sam's throat as he bit his lip, hung his head and buried his face against Dean's neck. 

Sucking in a breath between his teeth, Sam lifted his head and crushed his mouth to Dean's, kissing him hard but quickly pulling his head back. Looking at Dean through passion glazed eyes, Sam licked his lips, pressing his hips down against Dean hard, a small whimper tearing from his throat. "Wanna feel you."

Without breaking the next kiss, Dean rolled them over, still fucking his cock into Sam. He was so close to cumming, he didn't know how much he could give Sam, but he'd do anything for his innocent, anything. Lifting up onto his knees, he rearranged Sam's legs, throwing one over each of his shoulders and moving closer, aligning his weeping hard flesh up against Sam's hole. He worked himself inside slowly, biting his lip, a growl leaving him as he struggled not to just fuck inside his lover.

Sam gasped in a breath, neck arching as Dean's cock penetrated him, filling him. Small sounds of pleasure broke from Sam's throat along with moans and heated gasps, sighs.

He gave Sam only a little time to adjust, and then he pulled half way out and rammed himself inside, burying himself to the balls. "Do you feel me now?" His eyes burned intently as he started to pull out again, this time grasping Sam's thighs and getting ready to fuck him hard until they both came. 

Sam gave a grunted groan deep in his throat as his neck and body arched. Breaths panting out, through parted lips, he looked at Dean, pupils lust blown, face flushed. He nodded, groaning and arching back against Dean's cock as a hand went to his own. "Mmm...yes," he sucked in air between his teeth, and started to stroke himself as he wiggled under Dean. A small whimper broke from his throat as he arched his neck, "More."

"Greedy. Thank God." Dean started to fuck, moving his hips hard, slamming his body against Sam's ass even as Sam's heels dug into his back. He moved faster, harder, skin slapping hard against skin, closing his eyes as Sam clenched around him, groaning. "So tight... so fucking tight, so good... angh... Sammy." He needed Sam, needed Sam so bad, in so many ways. He'd almost lost him. He'd been so afraid, so fucking afraid. And now Sam was back, safe... his again. "Never... never leave me Sam," he demanded with each new invasion of Sam's body. "Promise me... you'll stay at my side... promise."

Sam's free hand was fisted in the bed linens, his breaths panting out, head rolling as he moaned and writhed, bucked his hips into his fisted hand and pressed back hard against Dean, using his heels to push Dean forward more. "Auugh! Auugh!' Sam panted hard, heat coiling low in his belly, his head thrashing on the pillow as his balls drew up tight. "Pra-Pa- I PROMISE!" Sam yelled the words just before the first jet of spunk shot from his cock. Gritting his teeth, Sam arched his neck as he came hard, coating his fisted hand.

"Yes, yes," Dean practically doubled over, pushing Sam's legs near his chest as he exploded inside him, cumming hard, so hard he immediately filled Sam up and his seed started to pour out of him. "Yes," he repeated shakely, moving his own hand over Sam's cock, slowly milking it even as he slowed his own thrusts and took a deep breath. "Yes... yes..." 

Pulling Sam's legs off his shoulders, he collapsed down over him, mouth finding Sam's. Delving his tongue inside, he gave him a long heated kiss, tenderly caressing his tongue, the roof, and every corner of his mouth. "So scared, never been so scared, not of anything I've fought," he said, lifting his head and cupping Sam's chin. "Of losing you."

Sam looked up at Dean from under lowered lids, lips parted as he panted his breaths, fought to get his breathing right, for his heart rate to slow. The corners of Sam's lips quirked upward slightly as he gazed at Dean's face. "Love you too." he told him softly, shaking his head. "Not goin' anywhere." He leaned upward, head lifting off the pillow just slightly as he pressed his lips to Dean's.

Letting his head fall back against the pillow, Sam licked his lips with a sigh as he closed his eyes."Tired now," he nodded and stretched under Dean much the way Sir John stretched before one of his afternoon naps. Sam smiled, his eyes still closed, "And no, I am _not_ like my cat."

"Hmph." Dean still didn't like sharing his innocent with all those animals. Kissing him once more, he rolled off him, and turned his to his side, pulling him close, spooning behind him. "I think you've been bitten by a tsi tsi fly. Look it up tomorrow."

Sam smiled as he snuggled up to Dean, wiggling until he was smashed as close as he could get against him. "I don't have a sleeping ailment, and we don't live in Africa," he mumbled softly, growing sleepier, a yawn escaping. "I just get tired after we do that." He sighed and reached for Dean's hand, lacing their fingers together and pulling his arm up further across him. "Shshsh, go to sleep before I have to gag you again." He grinned, then relaxed as he started to fall asleep.

"What happens in the bedroom stays in the bedroom," Dean said, gripping Sam's hip, "No talk about gagging me to Peter, or anyone else." Nuzzling his innocent's neck, he closed his own eyes.

* * *

It had taken time and not a little persuading, before Sam was back at Dean's side in battles after his attack. Though truth be told Sam had gotten his way long before most would have thought it possible.

A year passed and things were going well between them. Sam had received word from his best friend from the monastary, Christiana, that she was in need of his aid, things had not gone well for her and she needed a friend, someone she could rely on in her time of trouble. Sam had immediately gone to Dean to beg him to let her come. His first response to Sam's puppy-eyed look had been, 'no more animals'.

However, as Sam explained that it was _not_ an animal he was wanting, but a visit from a dear friend, Dean had allowed it, making Sam very happy. Something he repaid him for in bedroom antics and by trying to keep things as close to 'normal' around their animal infested world as possible.

A few weeks after Sam had responded to Christiana's letter, Dean had been called away. There was a round table meeting of Knights in Yorkshire, something he was not able to take Sam with him to, not that Sam would leave right now, looking out everday, it seemed, for sight of Christiana's arrival.

Dean had been gone a day and a half when Sam heard the carriage's approach as the knights who had gone to fetch Christiana returned. Rushing out of the kitchens, a smile spread wide across his face, Sam nearly ran to the castle entrance and down the stairs. "Christiana! Christiana!" Sam called to her as he ran.

Christiana stepped from the carriage, her stomach swollen with child, eyes squinting against the setting sun as she looked toward the sound of her name being called. "Puppy!? Puppy!?" she called back, a wide smile gracing her face.

The two ran to one another, actually she _waddled_ , and Sam grabbed her up in his arms, swinging her around, both of them laughing like children before he set her down on her feet. "It's so good to see you!" Sam told her.

"You look... radiant, and fit, and... I'm so happy for you," she smiled, hugging him again, squeesing her eyes shut and refusing to cry at her own bad luck. 

Sam drew away, smiling wide as he gazed at her. "And you," his eyes fell to her rather huge stomach, then darted up to her face, widening. "You - you're with child!?" he asked her, his mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming ou., "Christiana, how!? I mean, I know _how_ , but when, I mean I -" Sam continued to gawk, looking from her face to her round belly and back. 

"You should know how, we read all about it," she laughed, then sobered. "It happened very quickly, after I was claimed. Less then sevendays after you." Slipping her arm through his, she nodded toward the castle. "You should probably offer me refreshments."

Sam blinked, pulling himself out of his shocked stupor, "Huh? Oh, oh, yes, right," he shook his head at himself and started to walk her in. "I'm sorry, I just," he looked back down at her and grinned,. "I can't believe one of us is pregnant," he grimaced, "I mean of the four of us, I mean you or Stephanie." He rolled his eyes at himself. "Are you well? You look wonderful. I've missed you so much. I've told De ...um, Lord Winchester, all about you," he grinned like the naughty child he once was.

"Really? I've missed you too. And your Lord Winchester, you've gotten used to the old ogre? Or are the smiles because he is away?" She gripped his arm as they went up the few stairs, and released him, happy they were inside the cool interior of the castle now. It wasn't damp like some of the ones she'd been too in the year she'd been away from the monastery.

Sam chuckled and shook his head. "Lord Winchester is not an old ogre, he is a very handsome man," Sam nodded, "just like the one I use to tell you I dreamt about," he told her, smiling wide, eyes twinkling. "And I am a knight!" he anounced with not a little excitement in his voice. "Well, not completely, I guess, but I do go with His Lordship on hunts and I fight, I know how to use a sword. I do all that they do, I just do not hold title. But," he bit his lip, smiling, "it's very close to my dream."

He lead her into a sitting area and then over to the soft small lounge, helping her to sit down. "And you? How are things? I know you said in your letter you were having problems. Is your knight mean to you," he frowned. "If he is, I'll make sure he suffers for it, no one is going to treat you badly, Christiana!" Sam told her, meaning every word.

She shook her head 'no,' her eyes misting. "No, Roland is... was very kind and loving. We... we got married," she smiled. "One of my dreams came true too." She ran her hand through her long hair, rearranging it under the cap that held it in place. "He died in a hunt. His family took our house and gave me... well not enough to last a month. I will probably find a convent, after the child is born. I don't know what else to do... no one needs a used innocent."

Sam sat down next to her, jaw clenched as he shook his head. "No, you can," he licked his lips, "you can stay here. Um, there has to be something we can find for you to do and I know that Lord Winchester would not turn you away if I asked him." He bit his lip, his gaze dropping to her swollen belly. "If you go to a convent," he looked back into her face, "you will have to give the child to an orphanage, won't you?"

"I haven't thought that far, it's been a month since... since Roland...." She put her hand on her belly. "I don't take up much room, I sew... I wouldn't be any trouble, if..." Hope flared in her eyes, but it had been killed several times over these last weeks. Wiping her tears, she tried to smile. "We should talk about happier things. I hear you have an... _Elephant_?"

Sam grinned wide, noddin., "I do indeed have an elephant," he laughed and shook his head. "I was sure Lord Winchester would skin me for it, but..." he shrugged a shoulder a slight blush creeping over his features. He reached for her hand to give it a squeeze. "You'll stay here, you can sew," his blush deepened. "Lord Winchester has a habit of tearing things," he cleared his throat nervously as he tore his gaze away for a moment before looking back at her. "I just know he will say 'yes', Christiana, I mean, he let me have an _elephant_!" he told her, eyes shining with laughter as he looked at her.

Half laughing and half hoping, Christiana squeezed his hand too. 

Sam shook his head, "And you, with child or not, are _no_ elephant," he gave a nod. "It's settled. You can be our official seamstress." Giggling, he leaned closer, "I would ask if you want to race, but, in your condition, I would hate to beat you," he chuckled, eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Oh you wait, just you wait until the babe is born. Then I'll show you racing," she smirked. "Remember who won our last race, and who it was that got caught by brother John." 

Refreshments were brought, and Christiana ate well for the first time in days.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [](http://tinypic.com)  
>  Heartfelt thanks to Deannawesson for this gorgeous story banner!

Christiana had been there for two days when she began to complain of horrific belly pains and Sam went to get the healer who had ran out muttering something about a a mid-wife. Sam hadn't known what was going on, other than the fact that none of the women of the castle would let him into the room with Christiana.

Finally, he had figured out why. She was _having the baby_!

Now, he was doing the job of all good men in this time, _pacing_. Pacing back and forth in front of the room door and nearly wearing a hole in the wooden floor. Peter had come by a couple of times to ask if the babe was born yet, but Sam had only shook his head. 

That had gotten him a chuckle and the news that it could take all night. Sam's eyes widened. _All night!?_

A bevy of female servants rushed in and out of the room. The fire burned bright so the midwife could see. The word "breached" left the midwife's mouth and a hush fell over the room. 

Then the silence was broken by screams that pierced through the thick castle walls.

Sam stopped pacing, his eyes glued to the closed door as he worried his lip, "Chris?" he called out, though his voice was soft, a whimper of sound, brow creased with worry. 

"Push... you must push or the babe will die, push!"

More screams rent the air. "Take it out of me... take the babe... take it... save it...."

The midwife nodded, rose and walked out of the room. "Master Samuel, there is bad news."

Sam swallowed, eyes wide as he looked at the woman before him. "What!? What is it? Is it the baby?" he shook his head, "Not Christiana... not Chris!" he started to rush past the woman into the room and was stopped by her hand on his arm. 

Sam looked back at her, shaking his head. "No! You save Christiana! You save my Chris! Save her!" he yelled at the mid-wife.

She shook her head. "The baby is breached. We've tried everything, if it stays in her any longer it will die, and then she will die because it will poison her. She has asked that we save the babe. You have a few minutes to speak with her, be there... if you wish." She touched his arm and ducked back in the room, asking that the knife blade be sharpened.

Sam took in a deep breath as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed, fighting back the need to cry. He wasn't a twelve year old boy at a monastery anymore, he had to grow up. Christiana needed him. 

Blinking back his tears as he opened his eyes and stepped into the room quietly. His gaze fixed on Christiana laying on the bed.

"Christiana?" Sam called to her softly as he walked over, kneeling by the bedside. Reaching over, he took one of her hands in both of his. "Hey," he greeted her, trying to offer a smile, but failing as he sniffled and blinked away tears. "This is a horrible way for you not to have to race me, you know," he told her.

"I will race you by proxy," she said, tears wetting her cheeks. "My babe will be fast and strong. Sam... my babe..." the smile left her, and her shoulders started to shake. 

Sam pulled to his feet, her hand still in his and moved onto the bed, sliding in behind her as he laid her head on his lap. "Shshsh, your babe will be fine, and you, well, we just have to pray for a miracle, right? We _did_ grow up in a monestary after all," Sam told her, trying to sound reasonable, even as a tear escaped to roll down his cheek.

He sniffled, blinking as he took both her hands in his, "Okay, pray with me, Christiana, pray." He cleared his throat, "Hail Mary full of grace..."

Two voices were joined by others in the room, and then Christian's turned into blood curdling screams as she was held, pinned down and the midwife cut into her belly. The ground, and those holding her were bathed with her blood, as some prayed for God's mercy... a quick death.

Sam was covered in her blood, but he didn't care, didn't notice, his entire attention was focused on the woman who was like a sister to him as he watched her face, grit his teeth and cried out with her as she screamed.

The midwife plunged her hands into Christiana's belly, and pulled out a small babe. One pat on its behind and it gave a high pitched scream.

Christiana opened her eyes once, squeezed Sam's hand and slipped away from this life into the next.

Sam's eyes widened as he looked down at Christiana, "No! No! Chris! Chris!" he looked up quickly at the mid-wife, then back at Christiana as he pulled her limp body into his arms, burying his face against her neck and cried out, "Nooooooo!" sobs racked his frame, made his shoulders shake as he held onto her.

The midwife cleaned the baby, then touched his shoulder. "It's a boy. A boy..." she started to pass him to a woman, "have a wet nurse brought, immediately."

Sam turned his tear streaked face to look over at the baby, "No, wait, I want," he sniffled, drew in a shaky breath, "I want to see him, bring," he cleared his throat, "bring me _my son_." 

Many pairs of eyes were turned on him even as his bidding was done. 

"Lift him higher, the blood," the servant pointed out to Sam that his clothes were soaked. She opened the cloth he'd been swaddled in to let Sam see.

Sam hadn't even noticed the blood before, not really, now as he held Christiana's baby he tried to make sure that he didn't get a drop on him or the cloth he was wrapped in.

Sniffling, Sam nodded and looked down at the baby, hand raising to run a single digit down the baby's soft perfect cheek. "Hey," he sniffled as tears ran down his cheeks. Sam turned slightly toward Christiana's body, so the baby could see her. "That," he bit back a sob, "that's your Momma, she -" he pressed his lips together, face crumbling for a moment before he fought for composure, "she was my best friend in the whole world." He nodded to the baby. "But, she," he bit his lip, "she had to go away." a small muffled cry escaped as he pressed his lips together, his eyes squeezing closed for a moment as tears fell from them. Opening his eyes, he continued, "Heaven needed another angel, so," he sniffled, "so you're gonna be _my_ baby, okay?" he asked the infant. Sam slowly looked over at the mid-wife, "Who - who names him? Does he have a name?"

"She didn't give him one," the midwife answered. "I should have asked. Perhaps his father's name?"

Sam shook his head. "He's going to be my son now, mine and Lord Winchester's. I'll - I'll name him." Sam looked back at Christiana, then down at the baby. "His name is Christian, after his mother, the sweetest and most wonderful woman I ever knew," he told them with a nod, tears silently falling down his cheeks and off the end of his nose.

A servant came and put her hands out. "Let me have the wet nurse feed him, and you can change. I'll have him brought to your room."

Sam nodded as he sniffled, handing the baby back over to the servant. Looking back at Christiana, Sam shook his head. "I don't even know," he looked at the others, "will you dress him? Lord Peter can, I dunno, tell me what to do after that," he bit his lip, unsure.

The midwife gave a gentle laugh. "I doubt Lord Peter knows what to do with a babe, but he will be called to deal with... with the mother. The wet nurse will help you. She will take the babe every few hours, keep him, Christian, fed and clean. Now go take care of yourself."

* * *

Dean arrived in the dead of night. He had the option of staying at an inn when night fell, but he'd missed his innocent, and wanted to be home in his bed, and with his arms around Sam, as soon as possible. He reached his bedroom and opened the door, and was pleased to see by the light of the fire, that Sam was in his bed. 

He started to take his clothes off, as quietly as possible, dropping his cloak over the back of a chair.

Sam was laying on his side, facing away from the door, the babe, Christian, laying on the bed in front of him, tucked safely in the crook of Sam's arm as with the other, he slowly trailed a finger across the baby's face as he gazed down at him in awe.

"You are _so_ cute," Sam told the baby softly. "I could just kiss your whole face." He gave a soft chuckle.

A smile spread over Dean's face. Either Sammy was dreaming about him, or he was just too tired to roll over. Either way, this was a good welcome, even if he certainly was not _cute._

"Oh so now you want to suck my finger, hmm?" Sam asked Christian as the babe latched onto the tip of his index finger. "Such a cute little pink tongue."

 _Oh I want to suck a lot more than your finger._ Dean smirked though a frown formed as he tried to puzzle what Sam meant about a small tongue. He stuck his tongue out... it was a normal tongue, not smaller than anyone else's by God.

"Little hands, and feet," Sam told him, as he unwrapped his arm from around the baby to touch each as he spoke, letting Christian suck on his fingertip.

This time Dean's gaze fell to his hands and now to his bare feet. Sam might be a little taller than him, but the way he spoke, it was as if he were a giant and Dean a little person. Just what the hell was his innocent dreaming about now?!

"Are you wet? Should I look?" Sam asked him, amazed, but getting use to the fact that it seemed it as _all_ the babe did. Pee and eat. "You're so tiny..." Sam told him softly with a sigh.

"You may certainly check," Dean started, then shouted, "what?! THAT is not a good word for it Samuel, and I will have you taking those words back," he threatened, perplexed and stung by his words. He dropped his last garment and advanced on the bed just as Sam turned toward him and he saw something moving under the covers. Dean groaned. "How many times have I told you... no animals in my bed. Get that damnable cat OUT."

Sam smiled up at Dean, then frowned and shook his head, before a smile spread across his face once more. "Not the cat, Dean," he rolled slightly more toward him so Dean could see past, "it's my son, _your_ son."

"What?" Blanching, for the first time in his entire life, Dean felt as if he was about to faint. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the bed, peering at the small face to confirm that Sam was not going mad. Well he was, but in a different way. "You... we... men..." Dean drew in a deep breath. "It is not an animal, you can't just _keep_ it. You have to give it back, Sam."

Sam's smile slowly fell as he shook his head. "No," he told him, wrapping an arm around Christian, "he's mine. I named him and he's mine. His mother, Christiana, she..." Sam let out a ragged breath, "she died in childbirth." He shrugged a shoulder, still not looking at Dean, but at the baby. "So, Christian is mine."

Dean ran a nervous hand through his hair and searched Sam's face. "Are you opening an ... an orphanage?" Then he remembered Sam's friend, the other innocent. "Christiana?" He reached for and took Sam's hand. "I'm sorry. I know you loved her."

Sam shrugged again, looking down sadly, "It's alright, I held her as she passed. I was at least there." He sighed as he looked over at Christian as the babe released Sam's finger and started to whine. "And no, I am not opening an orphanage. This," he said as he scooped the babe up into his arms, as he gently pulled his hand away from Dean's, "is our son. Yours and mine," Sam told him with a nod and a stubborn lift to his chin.

Sam bit his lip as he looked down at the baby. "He even has your nose," he shrugged and smiled slightly, "well, it's Christiana's, but it could pass as yours well enough, and... and... his eyes are almond shaped, like mine and... and... we can just tell people that he um," Sam pressed his lips together and looked back at Dean. "I don't know, we'll think of something. But he isn't going to any orphanage. He's all I have left of my best friend and I'm keeping him."

Dean was very quiet as he listened, evaluating the things Sam said, trying to think past the shock of hearing the words 'our son.' He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He stared at the little thing, leaning slightly away when it opened its mouth and yawned. "You... you aren't giving me much time to think about it," he pointed out. It was just like every other surprise his innocent sprang on him.

Sam looked back at Dean and sighed. "Yeah, well, I wasn't given much time to think about it either, but," he glanced down at the baby then looked back at Dean. "I can't, I _won't_ give him away to some orphanage. We can raise him, care for him," he looked back at the baby and smiled softly, "love him." Sam quickly looked back at Dean. "Oh, um, did you want to hold him?" He offered the baby to Dean. "Go ahead, take him, he won't break. I know he looks like he will," Sam shook his head, "but he won't. Take him, you'll see. Once you hold him, you'll want to keep him too," he said with certainty.

Moving quickly, Dean scrambled off the bed. "No... no, that's quite alright... I ah... maybe when it's ... he's older," he said, indicating to his waist level, his eyes glued onto the baby's face. "He sleeps like you, appears angelic. I wonder if there's really an imp inside." Little did he realize he was smiling slightly.

Sam bit his lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making his dimples start to show, "So, it's alright, we can keep him?" He glanced back at the baby. "If he's anything like his mother, he's going to be a holy terror," he quickly looked back at Dean, afraid he might have just accidentally talked him out of keeping the babe, "but, so am I and you kept me." 

"Yes, well... there's a reason I'm known in some parts as the 'Mad Winchester' nowadays." Slowly, he made his way back to the bed and sat down, leaning in, he kissed Sam's temple, then mouth, then remembered the babe and pulled back. "Our son?" He gave a low laugh. "I know you think it's a simple matter, but I will need to check on relatives, and apply to the king." Seeing the worry in Sam's eyes, he put his hand on his arm. "He will probably ask for a fee."

Sam nodded, biting his lip before tearing his gaze from Dean to look back at the baby, "You know, maybe we should make my room into a nursery..." Sam suggested. "And we should get him a puppy. A little one, just born, so they can grow up together!" Sam's grin widened into a full blow smile as he turned more to face Dean on the bed. "And then we can get him a cat and a pony," Sam continued suggesting, eyes wide and full of excitement.

The baby reached up, hands waving and blindly grasping at air, before he grabbed onto a chunck of Sam's hair and pulled back toward himself, causing Sam to have to lean over him. "Ow! That's attached, ow, ow, ow..." He had to adjust his hold on the baby, so he could pry his tiny fingers, his grip, from pulling his hair. Sam gave the babe a mock-frown, "You _are_ your mother's child," he grumbled.

"Alright, you may turn your room into a nursery, you're here most of the time anyway," Dean nodded. "But no using the child as a reason for more animals." He put his index finger over Sam's mouth when his innocent would have complained. Slowly, he got inside the bed, spooning behind Sam, one arm thrown over him with his hand touching just the baby's swaddling cloths. "When the wet nurse comes for him, I ... I have need of you," he whispered against Sam's ear. He hadn't been on a hunt, so he could wait. 

Sam smiled as he nodded, wiggling back into Dean more. Taking Dean's hand in his, he laced their fingers together where it lay resting against the swaddling cloths. "I love you." Sam said softly.

"Love you, even if you turn my life upside down," he half muttered against Sam's ear, and closed his eyes. 

* * *  
[A Few Days Later]

Sam had gotten the ladies of the castle to set the baby up with a small basket that he could lay in when Sam was busy, but that he could easily move around with him if needed or wanted.

The baby now lay in the basket cooing and cawing as Sam sat on the bed, watching Dean as he got undressed for the night. As Dean undressed, Sam reached for the hem of his night clothes and pulled it off over his head, letting the garment fall off onto the floor. "My lord?" Sam said softly, voice husky as his gaze lustfully traveled over Dean's frame.

"Samuel?" Dean gave him a smug smile and allowed his own gaze to travel over every inch of his innocent, then back to his face. "Want something?"

Sam licked his lips and hung his head shyly as he smiled, a blush stealing over his features. "Well, I was thinking...." he bit his lip and quirked a brow.

"Yes?" Dropping his belt he sat down on the side of the bed, then leaned down remove his boots, his gaze never straying from Sam's.

Sam leaned toward him, reaching out to cup his jaw, pressing his lips against Dean, just lightly brushing over them with his own. "Would you want your innocent by chance?" Sam asked softly, not pulling away more than necessary to speak.

"I always want my innocent." Toeing off his second boot, he wrapped his arms around Sam and chased his mouth. "You should know, by now." It was the merest brush of his lips against Sam's, but it held the promise of much more. 

Sam smiled wider, then pressed his lips together. "Hmm... perhaps you should _show me_ ," he suggested, laying back on the bed, his eyes never leaving Dean's face.

"Show you, hmmm? Maybe I'll do just that." Rolling over on top of his innocent, Dean slid his hand under his shoulder, lifting him up as he melded their mouths together, moving back and forth at his leisure as his tongue tangled with Sam's. It didn't take long for his body to start to harden, to need Sam. He swept his mouth along the line of Sam's cheekbone and saw the basket.

Sam had closed his eyes, enjoying the feel of Dean's mouth, their kiss. It wasn't until Dean started to slow, as if he might stop, that Sam opened his eyes and pulled him closer, arching against his knight. Sam moaned softly, "Don't stop now. I've yet to be totally convinced." 

He chuckled, and started to kiss Sam's jaw, teasing his mouth with light kisses and licks, then moving lower to his throat. His innocent's scent was as intoxicating as ever. "Washed with honey," he murmured against his delicate skin, nipping him once, and licking the spot... sucking it. His hands roved over Sam's body. He knew every plane by heart now, but he'd never tire of it. He knew every sensitive spot, and exactly how Sam liked to be touched and teased. 

Lowering his head, he flicked his tongue out over Sam's nipple, tweaking the other one lightly at the same time. The intake of his innocent's breath sent blood surging right to his cock. "So beautiful, so--" He lifted his head again, and saw the baby's face. "Ah..."

Sam's head was tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted as his breaths had started to quicken, his own hands sliding up Dean's sides and over his back. A moan escaped him, only to turn into a sound of uncertainty as Sam's eyes fluttered open, his head slowly lowering. "What? What's the matter? Did I not use enough of the honey soap? Too much? What's wrong?" Sam asked, feeling suddenly self conscious.

"Nothing..." Taking a deep breath, Dean crawled down Sam's body, lay his cheek on Sam's belly and teased his cock with short licks. 

Sam moaned and slowly closed his eyes, "Mmm...okay..." biting his lip, he arched into Dean's touch.

He ran his hands up and down his lover's thighs, massaging them, moving up close to his erection laying on his belly, then back down. "What could be wrong? You're perfect. Every part of you, every inch. Mine," his calloused fist closed around Sam's cock, feeling its weight, and girth, playing with it lightly, his thumb making rings around it's crown.

Sam's body jerked slightly, a gasp leaving his parted lips before his eyes opened to slits, "Mmm... yeah..." Sam's hips bucked as he moaned, "More."

"Do we have any fruit? Reach over and get some?" he said, an almost innocent quality to his voice as he continued playing with Sam.

 _Fruit?_ Sam pressed his lips together, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavier, nodding. "Um, yeah, I think-" he turned his head toward the side table, and reached for the plate of peach slices.

Dean tongued him again, whispered against his cock. "Wonder how you taste with fruit on you."

 

"Nuugh..." Sam nearly dropped the plate at the mere thought of what Dean was suggesting. The images that fluttered through his mind and the thought of how it would feel had blood surging straight to his already hard cock, making Sam moan softly, pausing a moment before he handed Dean the plate. He nodded, "Yeah, that, Mmm..." his head fell back against the pillow, "sounds good..."

Raising up, Dean took a peach and crushed it in his fist, drizzling the juice over Sam's mouth, biting his lip as his innocent's red tongue peeked out to take a taste. He moved his hand down, letting the juice run down Sam's throat and chest. Taking another piece, he squeezed the peach juice over Sam's belly, and then started to rub it across his shaft, and round its head. "I can already imagine how sweet you are, peaches and honey," he drew in a breath and started to lick Sam's mouth.

Sam gasped and moaned as Dean started to lick his mouth, opening up for him and chasing his tongue, only to not be given what he wanted as Dean licked the sticky wetness instead. Sucking his own bottom lip into his mouth and some of the juice, Sam tightened his arms around Dean. "Kiss me," Sam told him, voice soft, breathy.

 

"Uh uh, I'm hungry. Need to eat first." Dean sucked more of the juice off Sam's lips and jaw, blocking Sam's tongue with his own, chuckling as they 'crossed tongues.' "Mmm, so good, so good Sammy," he nibbled on his ear, then started to slide down the side of his throat when the baby started making noises.

Dean stopped. Waited. And once it was quiet again, he straddled Sam, though he was on his hands and knees and started to lick the juice off him with long drags of his tongue over Sam's chest and abs, always moving, keeping Sam guessing as to where he'd be next. Sam's shudders, and the little sounds he made, had Dean hard and pulsing. "Spread your legs," he demanded, then started to lick Sam's cock, started to suck on it when Christian started to make noises.

Dean rolled over on his back, and let out a big sigh.

Sam picked his head up and looked at Dean, frowning in confusion. "What is it? Why'd you stop? Don't stop, I'm sticky," he smirked and laid his head back down, "come clean me off."

"I can't." He looked over at Sam. "Christian... I can't. He's... well he's looking at us, and then making sounds. Can't concentrate." He put his palm over Sam's stomach. "Sleep now." 

Sam raised his head, frowning as he looked from Dean to the basket and Christian in it, then back to Dean. "Just ignore him, he's fine. He just wants attention. It'll be okay, the women all assured me that it was normal. Now come here," he tugged at Dean's arm, "Can't sleep, you made me ache. Make it better." The corners of his lips quirked up as he closed his eyes, waiting. 

"Mmm." Dean started to move toward Sam, and then heard the little noises again and groaned. "I can't... seriously Sam, I can't... not with him here. Make it up to you in the morning."

Sam lifted his head and looked at Dean like he'd just lost his mind. "The morn..." he huffed, "Fine, take him to the nursery, the wet nurse can feed him and change him and put him to bed."

"Me?! What are you fucking crazy... you take him." Sam knew he didn't hold anything that small. He'd told him plenty of times. He was just trying to make him panic, it was revenge... clearly.

"Dean," Sam started as he closed his eyes and lowered his head back to the pillows, speaking slowly as though Dean were totally out of his mind. " _I_ am sticky now..... _YOU_ made me sticky, I can not take him anywhere. Not to mention right now I have other issues." He waved a hand toward his obvious erection. "Take him, you'll be fine." 

"No.. I... go wash." Seeing the look, the ache in Sam's eyes, his shoulders sagged. Sighing like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, and then muttering about it being unseemly for great big knights to hold rat-sized children, he got up and reached for the nightclothes that hung on the bottom of their bed. Throwing it on, he walked to the basket and bravely reached inside, then stopped. "Maybe we should just move to another room."

Sam sighed. "He won't bite you," he licked his lips, "besides, _us_ moving doesn't solve MY problems. I still gotta get up, sticky and..." he looked away, crossing his arms over his sticky chest. "Christian needs to be in place in his own bed."

"Christian didn't arrive here on his own," Dean shot back. Shooting Sam a look, he scooped the baby up, then brought it into his arms the way he'd seen Sam hold Christian. His heart beat against his chest. "He's so... so small." Internally, he chanted a reminder, not to hold him too tight, not to squish him, not to drop him. One step at a time, he walked to the adjoining room. By the time he was through the doors and in Sam's old room, where the nurse and wetnurse were sleeping, he'd gotten used to the light weight package he was carrying.

Under the moonlight that was streaming in, he studied the babe's face. He did have his nose, and Sam's eyes. Slowly, he ran his finger over Christian's face, then sat down in a chair, rocking him slightly.

Sam sighed as he watched the door, waiting for Dean to all but come running back into the room like he had just chanced a Wendigo. Minutes ticked by and there was still no sign of Dean. _Oh God, did he drop him and just not want to say anything? No, the baby would have cried.... unless he was UNCONSCIOUS!_

Sam sat up abruptly in the bed, eyes wide, "Dean!? Dean!? Is everything alright in there? Why can't I hear the baby? Where are you?"

Dean smiled. "Shshsh, everything's okay. Baby's sleeping." The wet nurse sat up, and he felt her startled eyes on him, but he didn't acknowledge her, merely rocking their son. 

Sam frowned, biting his lip a few moments before swinging his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet. Reaching for the bedclothes, Sam slipped them on over his sticky body, grimacing at the feel of it, but too curious to care.

On bare feet, he padded to the door of the adjoining room and leaned against the door jam, a soft smile on his face. "If the sight were not so adorable and didn't warm my heart so much, I would complain of being replaced," Sam told him softly as he tilted his head to the side, watching Dean and their son.

Dean's face jerked up, then he smiled. "You know that would be impossible." He looked back down, daring to slip one finger inside the child's hand the way he'd seen Sam do it. "So small. I wonder if he has 'giant' blood, like his _mother_." He didnt dare look at Christian's 'mother' as he said that.

Sam quirked a brow and opened his mouth to tell Dean that Christiana had been a tiny slip of a thing, before it dawned on him just _who_ Dean was referring to. Sam snapped his mouth closed and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "Mother, huh?" he huffed, "I think not. More like... his 'other' Daddy, thank you very much."

Smirking, Dean started to raise the baby up. "Put him away?"

Sam pulled away from the door jam and walked into the room, over to Dean, carefully taking the baby from him and walking him over to his bed. Sam laid the baby down on his stomach and patting his behind as he got comfortable, so he would remain asleep. Once Christian stopped the small bit of squirming he was doing, Sam pulled his hand back and turned to face Dean. "You really could have done that," he shrugged a shoulder, "it's not hard."

Grabbing the front of Sam's robe, he started walking backwards, not caring that the wetnurse quickly looked away. "Maybe. Or maybe I like watching you do it. I like watching you with him." As they passed through the adjoining door, he waited for Sam to pull it closed, then pushed him up against it and slanted his mouth over Sam's. "Now... were were we?"

 

* * *

[Seven Years Later]

Dean defended himself, each clash of his sword against Samuel's resulting in a shower of sparks. "Ha, ha, ha!" he shouted in counterpoint to his innocent's shouts, as they both fought with exaggerated moves that would make a showman proud. He sprang backwards into a somersault, rising just in time to turn around and engage Sam in a new round of parries, trying hard not to smile at the anxious cries of "daddy... papa... papa... daddy!" Their audience had yet to make up his mind as to who should win.

"Doesn't Samuel look like a three headed dragon?" he called out.

"Nooooo... daddy has one head," the seven year old giggled.

"You have to admit he's got wolf teeth... he's very very dangerous, I have to be..." Dean jumped as Sam's leg swept toward him, then ducked as he lowered the sword, "... very careful not to turn into his dinner. I'll slay him... you just wait!" He thrust his sword right past Sam's shoulder, sliding his mouth over his cheek in the process, then tumbling out of the way. "Do you want his tail as a trophy?"

Sam glared at Dean. "I'll give you my tail alright," he spoke low, a glint in his eyes, before glancing toward Christian.

"I think your papa has it all wrong, he looks to me like some sort of winged demon! Perhaps I should," he looked back at Dean, " _'pluck'_ his wings?"

Sam dodged a kick and a swipe of Dean's sword only to purposefully and quite exaggeratedly stumble backward, collapsing onto the ground, sprawled. "He got me, Christian! He got me!" Sam pretended to be holding onto some mysterious wound that was no where near where Dean had swung _or_ kicked.

"Avenge me, my son!" Sam called out, exaggeratedly gasping for breath, before dramatically ' _dying_ ' for them, eyes closed, his tongue even hanging out of his mouth to the side.

Dean strode over, muttering under his breath, "I'll show you what to pluck." Then more loudly, for their son's benefit, he called out, "look at his forked tongue, he is part snake. I have vanquished him, a monster."

"Daddy, daddy, daddy," a half giggling Christian ran toward them and stopped.

"Oh... I know how to make the poison that changed him into a monster go away. Do you know how?" Dean looked at his son who was shaking his head 'no.' "Tickle him. We have to tickle the poison out of him."

In unison, Dean and Christian fell on top of Sam, tickling him mercilessly.

Sam jerked, eyes opened wide as he fought to defend himself from the tickling fingers, laughing and rolling from side to side to try and get away.

"S'gone! S'gone!" Sam panted out, laughing so hard his side ached and tears filled his eyes. As soon as he was shown mercy, Sam grinned, "I deceived you, for I _am_ a monster!" he growled out, grabbing Christian around the waist and pulling him to the ground to tickle him in return, then reaching up to get Dean as well. "I am the worst kind of monster, for I tickle torture knights until they squeal like little girls!" Sam growled, wrinkling his nose to look vicious as he attacked them back.

Laughing as he rolled back, Dean caught Charles' eyes on him. He grinned, and went back to playing with his family. For all his life, before Sam and Christian, he'd been serious, hardly taken time to just enjoy life, but now... now Sam had taught an _old_ knight new tricks and had given him back the childhood he'd missed. "Get the dastardly fiend," he shouted, encouraging Christian who had climbed Sam's shoulders. 

Knowing he was beaten, Sam did the only thing he could do. He laid his head and shoulders on Christian's belly, as he carefully fell forward, and used his weight as he lay there like a dead weight. He gave a grunt and spread his arms wide on the ground, "I'm dead, you have slain the terrible beast." He started to move his head up and down then, tickling Christian's face with his hair as he used his body weight to pin him. 

Reaching back, Sam grabbed Dean and pulled him down next to him on the ground. "I think mayhap it's time for a certain knight's nap," he told Dean softly, before looking upward at Christian who was still struggling under Sam's head and shoulders to get out from under the ' _dead beast_ '.

 

*

Inside the castle a little while later, Sam sat before the fire, rocking Christian. Sure, he was older now, but this was Sam's favorite time with him, and Christian didn't seem to mind it any.

Dean sat across from them as Sam rocked their son, though he was already hanging half out of the chair when seated sideways as he was.

"Tell me again how I came to be with you and papa," Christian told Sam.

Sam sighed exaggeratedly, glancing at Dean as he did. Smiling he looked back down at Christian, "Okay, but then it's nap time."

Christian nodded, "Okay."

Sam nodded as he licked his lips and started, "Well, one day a little boy met a little girl at a monastery,"

"You and mommy." Christian interjected.

"Yes, but you're interrupting."

"Sorry."

"So they met and became fast friends, best friends," Sam nodded, "they grew up together and one day the boy's knight came to collect him,"

"Papa!" Christian exclaimed then covered his mouth, almond shaped green eyes wide, "oops." 

Sam gave a fake stern look, but continued, "He left the girl there and soon she went with her knight," he shook his head, "they didn't hear from one another for a long while, but then one day," he smiled, "the boy heard from his beloved friend and she came to see him, she was with child."

Christian pointed at himself, and Sam nodded.

"She went into labor a couple days later and had the baby, but," Sam pressed his lips together frowning, "heaven needed more angels, there was a shortage, you see..." he sighed, "and your momma went to heaven after you were born to become an angel, leaving you here with me. But she's always here to watch over you."

Christian frowned, "Papa wasn't here..."

"No, papa wasn't here, he didn't get to meet your momma," he glanced at Dean, then looked back at Christian, "and that makes us sad, but, I know your momma very well, and I know that she not only looks over you, but over your papa too."

Christian smiled wide and nodded, "Yeah, I think she does."

Dean smiled and got up, reaching out to lift Christian out of Sam's arms. "Yes, she does. And now, it's time for your nap," he started walking toward the adjoining room, "and soon, it will be nap time for your daddy as well, if I have anything to say about it." Grinning at the thought of all the ways he could get Sam 'sleepy,' Dean tucked Christian into bed, pulling the bed cloths up to his chin. "Sleep well, little knight." He tweaked his nose and was glad that he and Sam had made the decision that Christian would not be a hunter. If they'd chosen that route for him, they would have missed out on his childhood, having to send him to foster and train with others. No, his son would grow up to be a strong knight who could keep their lands and someday choose a bride, but he would not know the taint of evil, not if his parents had their way.

A few minutes later, Dean was at his bed looking down at his innocent who seemed to have fallen asleep even before they'd had any bedsport. Letting out a sigh of disappointment, he looked at the door. He wasn't much for taking midday naps. Still, sometimes his innocent made it hard for him to leave. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he sat down, pulled his boots off and then lay next to Sam. Absently, he moved his arm over Sam's stomach, stroking his side. 

Sam smiled, his face turned away from Dean. "Have you come to put me to bed, too?" he asked him, slowly turning his head as he opened his eyes, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he looked up at Dean. "I think you might need to tire me first." Sam told him softly, licking his lips as his gaze roamed over his knight.

A brilliant smile lit up Dean's face. "I just slayed you ten times, surely you're already tired of my ... sword."

Sam smiled wider and shook his head. "Never," he answered softly, lifting his head from the pillow toward Dean's, lips parted in invitation.

"Just what a man likes to hear," Dean said, cupping the back of Sam's head and rolling over, unerringly slanting his mouth over Sam's, kissing him, tasting him, loving him as he had so often over the years. It never grew old, never became a chore to love his innocent, not when they were made for each other. "Have I told you about all the ways to find pleasure through the art of kama sutra?" he asked, predicting the heat and curiosity in Sam's eyes, and taking pleasure in it. "I wouldn't want to tire you too much, I'll show you tonight," he said, his lips a hairsbreadth from Sam's. 

Sam stared at Dean, even as close as he was, shocked that he was going to just leave the subject like that, hanging there, an unfulfilled promise to be thought about the rest of the day. 

His eyes slowly narrowed as he rolled with Dean on the bed. "You tease," he grumbled as they rolled, dipping his head over and over to plant open mouthed kisses all over Dean's face and neck playfully.

"Me? No, never," he chuckled and closed his arms tightly around Sam, holding him close and rolling him back. "I'm just teaching you... patience." Then Lord Dean Winchester proceeded to show Sir Samuel, Knight and Innocent, how very _impatient_ he could be.

... And they lived happily ever after.

THE END

Authors note: In case you are interested, PHX69 wrote a lovely two-part time stamp for this story. You can find it here - http://phx69.livejournal.com/tag/home%20fires%20fic


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